This Never Happened Part 2
by ThisNeverHappenedII
Summary: Finally, the long-awaited conclusion to TNH. With Carlos still off on his mission, Stephanie continues to 'fly' as a lingerie designer while dealing with her unsupportive mother, Carlos' family members and many unexpected events. Adult situations/language. TNH is now finished!
1. Chapter 1 Chapter 85

**This Never Happened Part 2**

This is the conclusion, or Part 2, of _'This Never Happened,'_ one of the best loved fanfiction stories based on Janet Evanovich's popular _Stephanie Plum_ series. Unfortunately, the story's author Jude passed away before she could finish her incredible tale about Stephanie Plum and Carlos Mañoso (Part 1). Her daughter, _Blue Orchid_, wanted to finish this story to honor her mother's memory. Working with a FanFic friend, _bgrgrmpy_, they found two writers willing to take on this exciting but daunting project.

Part 2 of TNH is the creation of two writers, _writes4fun_81_ and _Jago-ji_, based on Jude's story notes and the many discussions Jude and her daughter had about finishing this love story. _Blue Orchid, bgrgrmpy, writes4fun_81_ and _Jago-ji_ have worked closely together for many, many months to complete Jude's vision. We hope you see the spirit of Jude in these new chapters, and that you enjoy reading our ending for one of fanfics' truly extraordinary stories.

Disclaimer: This is an AU story set before the timeline of the _Stephanie Plum_ series. Many of the characters belong to Janet Evanovich. Some are original to this story. No one is making any money from this.

We highly recommend you first read the revised 84 chapters (Part 1) before beginning Part 2.

We proudly post this first new chapter of Part 2 on April 1, 2012 – three years to the day after Jude posted her first chapter. As one of our favorite characters might say: _This Never Happened_ IS going to happen and it's going to be good. _Read on…_

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**CHAPTER 85**

_Stephanie's POV_

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I hate Joseph Morelli! He's been ruining my life – or trying to ruin it, anyway – since I was a little girl. My mother had warned me to stay away from 'those bad Morelli boys,' but I thought I knew better than she did and didn't pay her any attention. Of course, Joe took advantage of my naïveté. First, he taught me the 'Choo-Choo-Train' game when we were kids and then he took my virginity when we were teenagers. Now that we're adults, of course, I _do_ know better. And this time, that jerk has gone too far!

You see, I'd had a plan for the evening. My future father-in-law was going to come over to my house for what he thought would be another one of our cooking lessons. Except the only thing that would be cooked was Papa/Rico/Ricardo Mañoso's own goose. Hurricane Stephanie was going to make that sneaky, conniving man 'fess up' to his true identity and be honest with me for once. I had planned to make him feel very, _very_ sorry he had ever lied to my face or harassed his son, my fiancé, in my presence. Okay, so maybe it hadn't been a complete plan, but it was _my_ plan and then stupid-ass Morelli ruined everything.

The interview with the reporter from Allure magazine had gone extremely well, especially after she discovered our photo models were, for the most part, 'ordinary' women. I even pulled in a few of the girls to speak with the reporter for a few minutes each and they all described how much more empowered they felt now that they'd allowed the '_Babe_' inside of them to come out and play. There was a moment when I thought the reporter would jump on the chance for her own make-over and photo shoot, but she ultimately decided to maintain the integrity of her magazine article. She did, however, agree to return to our studio after the magazine published her piece!

So, I left the office on a high note and breezed through the grocery store aisles to pick up the ingredients Rosa had written down on a list for me for our cooking lesson on Tuesday. It would be fun learning how to make more of the traditional Cuban meals from Carlos' grandmother – his wonderful _Abuela_. There was absolutely _no_ way I'd allow Carlos' arrogant fool of a father to give me another cooking lesson, especially since I'd been pouring out my heart to him all this time and he'd merely soaked it all in and never let on that _he_ was the one responsible for so much of the pain and frustration in my beloved's messed up family life.

Imagine my horror and shock when I pulled into the driveway of my townhouse and saw the two men with whom I was most angry standing on my front porch. Somehow, while I wasn't looking, my two worlds had collided with each other. There was Joe Morelli, an unfortunate part of my 'Burg past, standing toe-to-toe with Ricardo Mañoso, who would become – for better or for worse – an unfortunate part of my future. They were arguing and yelling and both men were waving things at each other. I could see Morelli's police badge in his hand and it looked like Ricardo was brandishing a… a menu!

It was surprising that no one on my quiet little street had come out of their homes to investigate the commotion. If we'd been located in the 'Burg, all of the neighbors would be out on their front stoops, taking bets as to which man would throw the first punch. Neither one of the infuriated and red-faced men seemed to notice my car when I drove up. And they were so engrossed in their argument they failed to notice me walking over to the garden hose attached to the front spigot of the townhouse – that is, until I turned on the water and soaked them with the sprayer. That _really_ got their attention. Big time.

"Hey! _Hey!_" I yelled up at them from my relatively safe position on the sidewalk. "You wanna explain to me what the two of you are doing out here? I mean, besides the obvious matter of causing a public disturbance. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! In fact, I'm shocked no one's called the police on you already!"

When I finally stopped spraying them, both men were sputtering and shaking water out of their eyes and hair and off of their bodies. The curses and expletives, which had poured out of both Joe's and Ricardo's mouths as they assessed their wet condition, ended abruptly. Their facial expressions transformed from shock and disbelief back to anger pretty quickly, though.

"Cupcake," Joe growled, "How _dare_ you hose me down like this? I _am_ the police!"

I narrowed my eyes at him and shot back, "From what I hear, you won't be _the police_ for much longer if you keep acting like a horse's ass." If looks could kill, we'd both have been deader than doornails at that moment.

Ricardo elbowed his way in front of Joe, which I thought was a pretty gutsy move considering that Morelli had just identified himself as an officer of the law. "Estefanía, who is this _crass_ man?" Rico demanded indignantly. "He claims to be your own mother's choice of a husband for you. But he has no right to come over to your house and make romantic advances toward you! I told him that you were engaged to be married to my… my…"

Joe cut him off with a disgusted wave of his hand, "This is crap, Stephanie! You belong with me. Besides, everyone knows that _I had you first_ – long before that sorry excuse of a first husband of yours had you. Clearly, you just made up that _fairytale_ about being engaged to some far-away guy so that your mother would get off your back. And I know you're desperate, but a 'sugar-daddy' like this old guy isn't what you need, Cupcake. _I_ am!"

Both Ricardo and I gasped in horror and simultaneously exclaimed, "Sugar-daddy!"

Morelli continued, "I got eyes. I can see what's been going on here, Steph, but you don't have to pretend anymore – you can be engaged for real – to me. Being this old coot's mistress isn't the way to go, Cupcake. Come away with me now. I'll show you how a _real_ man does things. And I guarantee we won't need any Viagra to get the job done."

Then Ricardo lost his last shred of patience and shoved Morelli down the front steps. Morelli's top physical conditioning kept him from falling onto either his head or his ass, but he still landed on the wet grass and ended up with mud splashed all over his clothes. When Joe got up, I could see murder in his eyes and I stepped over to the bottom of the stairs and prevented him from rushing back up and giving Carlos' father the beating he so richly deserved.

"Stop right there, Officer Morelli," I spoke with more authority in my voice than I really felt in my heart. My stiffly outstretched arms were strictly just for show, but Joe didn't try to go around me. "Obviously, there's been some sort of misunderstanding here. Let's all take a moment to calm down, before any more _accidents_ happen." I glared back at the furious Ricardo for emphasis.

"Accident, my ass!" Joe fumed and waved his arms in the air. "That old goat pushed me and you know it! The guy's a nut! I was here first, minding my own business and waiting for you to come home. When Mr. 'Way-Too-Old-For-You' came along, he actually said he was here to give you a cooking lesson. Like I'm gonna believe that story!" Then he laughed bitterly. "I work _vice_, remember? I've seen all kinds of schemes. Guess I know what kind of saucepan he plans on dipping his ladle into tonight, huh, Cupcake?"

Okay, then _I_ lost my temper and punched Morelli myself. I scored a direct hit to his right eye and I thought I might have broken my hand in the process. Perhaps that wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I'd heard enough of Morelli's mouthing off. Unfortunately, he wasn't finished spewing his trash.

"That's it, Cupcake!" Joe spat his words through clenched teeth. "I came over here tonight to be nice to you, to show you a good time. Your mother said that all you do is work, work, work and that you don't even have time for a man in your life – real _or_ imaginary. But we both know that it's _you_ who's been sending me those notes and leaving me those messages."

"I swear; it's not me, Morelli!" I exclaimed. "No way, no how!"

"Hah!" Joe scoffed. "Then I find _this_ creepy old man skulking around and he's saying all kinds of crazy crap about why he's here. One minute he's your so-called cooking instructor and the next minute he's your future father-in-law. For chrissake, your senile lover can't even keep his own story straight! Maybe you two _deserve_ each other."

Ricardo protested, "How many times must I tell you? I am _not_ Estefania's lover!"

Joe rolled his eyes, threw up his hands and said, "Whatever! I don't care anymore! In fact, I'm done being Mr. Nice Guy with you, Stephanie Plum! I was fool enough to think I could help you in a nice way, but screw that! You're still a nutcase and you're just gonna have to learn the hard way – as usual. From now on, if I so much as catch you going _one_ friggin' mile over the posted speed limit or parked a smidgen too far over the line or in violation of any little thing, I'll have no mercy on your ass. Yours neither, _Mr. Mañoso_. That's right, I'll always remember your name, too, and so will my friends in the Health Department, the guys who inspect restaurants. Live in fear – both of you!" Then he turned on his heel and marched angrily toward his truck.

Ricardo's voice coldly reached across the distance as he said, "Be careful with your threats, _Officer_ Morelli. I, too, have many friends among the important people. In fact, I have many connections with the movers and the shakers of New Jersey, including your boss, Chief Juniak, who is a regular and _loyal_ customer of mine."

Morelli's spine stiffened at the mention of the Police Chief, but he wrenched open his car door anyway. I could see he was mulling over his true level of influence in this current game of 'trump the chump.' Chances were, Joe wouldn't ever press charges against either Ricardo or me, but just to make sure, I decided to play one of my 'trump cards,' too.

"Besides, Joe," I said, "I think the _last_ thing you'd want is for the police chief to find out that you've been over here to visit me at all, especially after that ill-advised bet of yours, right?"

Morelli didn't even glance in my direction. He merely slid into his truck, turned the key in the ignition and roared off. I didn't care. Good riddance, I thought. Joe was going back to the 'Burg, no doubt, where I was sure he'd give both his mother and my mother a complete report of the night's events – casting himself in the best possible light, of course. Obviously, Joe Morelli and Valerie and our parents all still belonged over there; whereas, I no longer did.

. . .

_A/N: And so we begin again. The four of us – writes4fun_81 and Jago-ji (the writers), Blue Orchid and bgrgrmpy – are committed to completing 'This Never Happened' and we'd love to hear from you. Please join us in honoring Jude's memory in this special way. We will be posting once a week, every Wednesday, for a while as we continue writing the last chapters from Jude's notes. Thanks for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2 Chapter 86

**CHAPTER 86**

_Joe's POV_

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Stephanie Plum drives me nuts! She's been ruining my life – or trying to ruin it, anyway – since we were kids. Sure, I had a little fun with her when she was five or six, but after that, I'd always catch her following after me or watching me with those big blue eyes of hers. A man could get lost in those eyes, you know. In fact, those eyes could drive a man to do stupid things – like when I nailed Stephanie on the pastry shop floor. She'd actually been a virgin, but like I said, she drives me nuts!

_Damn!_ I can still remember the way Stephanie gave herself to me that night at the Tasty Pastry. I'm just lucky she didn't get pregnant right then and there, because I was totally unprepared for the encounter. There I was, minding my own business and buying a few snacks for my trip to the Navy base where I'd be shipping out on my first sea tour. And there she was, working behind the counter at the bakery shop, looking like a "tasty pastry" herself. She smelled so good – like butter cream frosting – I just had to have her. And I knew she wanted me, too, by the way she licked her lips and gazed intently at me while I made my selections. It was very sexy!

I always meant to call and see how my little Cupcake was doing, but I was out to sea and I never got around to it. Hey! I never claimed to be a Boy Scout! My stint in the Navy flew by quickly and when I came home to New Jersey, my mind was on other things. By then, I'd figured out that I wanted to become a policeman and I was trying to get my life on track with those plans. The next time I saw Stephanie, though, she ran over me with her father's car and broke my friggin' leg!

Actually, I'm a sick man. I continually lust after women that are no good for me; women I can't have, women I _shouldn't_ even fool around with – and Stephanie Plum is a prime example. I never should have allowed my mother and her mother to try to play matchmakers between us. What a disaster! I knew I'd have to face my mother and Mrs. Plum eventually, but they'd have to wait until tomorrow. I was certainly not in the mood to tell them Stephanie had chosen an aging Latino fry cook over _me_ to be her lover.

Teresa Grizolli, or rather, Terry Gilman as she calls herself these days, is another prime example of a woman I can't have. Sure, I've always had a "thing" for Stephanie Plum, but my first _true_ lover was Terry Grizolli. She caught my eye back when we were in high school and we dated off and on until I graduated and joined the Navy. We finally broke up for good because we both knew I'd never been completely faithful to her and I certainly wasn't going to keep my hands to myself whenever I got shore leave.

By the time I got out of the Navy, Terry was married to some idiot jerk she'd chosen specifically to annoy her parents, but that didn't really stop us from seeing each other if we felt the need. Terry had been a pretty brunette throughout most of our high school years before she dyed her hair platinum blonde. After her divorce, she kept the non-Italian name, just like she kept the blonde hair color. Turns out, those were smart moves on her part – she could float in and out of various situations and nobody who didn't already know Terry would suspect her of being connected to her family of origin.

Anyway, as soon as I drove away from Crazy Stephanie's place, I went back to my place, showered and changed into dry clothes. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected that woman to turn a water hose on me. Damn! Just the idea of playing in the water with her made me want her all the more! Obviously, wild-gorilla sex was the only thing that would get my mind off of Stephanie Plum and I always could count on Terry Gilman to come through for me. So I called my old girlfriend and she told me when and where I could meet her.

It's really a shame that I've turned out to be such a good cop, especially since Terry works for her Uncle Vito, who's a local crime boss. Being on opposite sides of the law, we have to keep our relationship on the down-low. Actually, I do have a few mob connections of my own, but they're from my mother's side of the family and I have to be very careful. Even if I get married someday, or if Terry remarries, we'll always have our little flings on the side. That's just the way things are between us, but hey, I'm not complaining.

Since I had to wait another hour and a half before I could meet Terry, I decided to drive back over to Stephanie's hoity-toity neighborhood and do a little more surveillance on her and her Ricardo Montalban-wannabee sugar-daddy. Luckily, I had barely put on the parking brake of my truck when I saw the old goat coming down the front steps and walking toward his car. On a whim, I decided to follow this Mr. Mañoso for a while to see where he was headed and gather more information on him. Once I saw that he used a key to enter the back door of a popular restaurant in Newark, I figured he really was who he said he was. I'd just have to deal with him later. Then I drove off to get with Terry.

After we satisfied our mutual needs – with considerable gusto, I might add – I held Terry in my arms and stroked her short blond hair. Smiling down at her, I said, "I remember the first time you dyed your hair this color."

Her mouth twisted into a smirk and she replied, "I suppose you're referring to the time I caught you boinking Heather Mackie in a utility closet during the Homecoming Dance?"

"Uh, yeah," I admitted. No point in lying now. That sort of thing happened a lot back then. "She was a blonde, right?"

"Right," Terry said. "I've been a blonde ever since then, too. And you know what I've discovered?"

"No, what?" I asked, gazing down at her impish grin.

"Blondes really do have more fun!" Terry said.

Then she proceeded to show me again just how much fun she could share with me. Sometimes I really wish I could marry Terry. I mean, we truly understand each other in ways that nobody else could even come close. Sadly, she'll always work for her family and I'll always be a cop with ties to a rival family. Oh, well, I thought for the thousandth time, I'd just have to take what I could get whenever I could get it. Feeling rather frisky after striking out with Stephanie Plum, I decided to go in for a third helping of Terry when she stopped me cold.

"I gotta go," Terry announced and she vaulted out of the bed. We had met up at an out-of-the way motel, as usual, and I'd had hopes of spending the entire night there with her.

I sat up, perplexed, and asked, "What? Why so soon? We just got started here! I had big plans for us tonight." I knew I sounded almost whiny, but I didn't care. I'd had a miserable evening and still needed to let off some steam.

Terry was unaffected by my tone of voice. She calmly finished fastening her bra and pulled on her stockings. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have any panties because I'd ripped them off of her as soon as we got in our room. After she slid her dress over her head and adjusted everything, she shook her head at me and said, "Sorry, Joe. My Uncle Vito's wife's favorite niece is getting married this weekend and her bridal shower is tonight. You know how it is with my family – I can't skip this one."

"Awww, Terry, this really sucks!" I complained. I raised my hands in a gesture of complete frustration and asked, "Why me?"

She smiled wryly at me and said, "Well, Tiger, I would've told you about my plans for the night earlier, but you never gave me a chance. It's been a while since we've had _that_ kind of sex. I guess you've really been missing me, haven't you?"

"You have _no_ idea how much!" I said. "Why don't you come back after the bridal shower and I'll show you? I'll just stay right here in bed and finish watching the game on TV till you return."

"No can do," Terry said, as she glanced around the room. "I gotta make a delivery for my uncle afterwards – in Philly. I'll call you later this week, though." Then she gathered her purse and coat, kissed me on the tip of my nose and slipped out of the motel room.

_Damn!_ First, Stephanie gave me the shove-off and now Terry just gave me the kiss-off. Women! They _all_ drove me crazy! And I was beyond ready for action again. I flopped back onto the bed and punched the pillows a few hundred times to release some of my frustration. When that didn't work, I reached down and did the only other thing I could do to get rid of the sexual tension in my body.

After I got up and took a shower, I glanced at the bedside clock and realized it was still early enough to head out to one of the local bars and knock back a few drinks. There was a little hole-in-the-wall tavern within walking distance of my house, so I decided to go there – just in case I got too drunk to drive home. And after the day I'd just had, I planned to drink until the bartender cut me off.

Freddy's Bar and Grill was, like most places of its kind, very dimly lit and had very few actual food items on the menu. When I arrived, a few of the 'regulars' sitting on the barstools nodded at me and then turned back to watch the game on the overhead TV screen. I assumed my usual place at one of the back tables and ordered my first bottle of whiskey. My encounter with Stephanie Plum and her sugar-daddy on her porch was still bothering me and I needed to take the edge off quickly. At this point, hard liquor was the only way to go.

About a half-hour later, a woman entered the tavern, quickly glanced around the room and then sat on one of the recently-vacated barstools. Everyone in the place stared at her, mainly because women usually didn't come in to this particular establishment, but also because she seemed to be upset about something. Without paying attention to anyone else, she ordered one of those frou-frou pansy drinks and Freddy, the owner and primary bartender, fought to keep from laughing in her face.

"Listen, sweetie pie," the tough old bartender said to her, "if you want one of _those_ kinds of drinks – the ones with the little umbrellas in them – you'd better head over to the Rumble Room Bar on Broad Street. I mostly just serve the basics here: wine, beer and liquor. I guess I could make you something with orange juice or tomato juice, but that's about as fancy as I get."

"Fine," said the woman, shrugging out of her light-weight denim jacket. "Make me a screwdriver, then – heavy on the vodka, light on the OJ." And with that, she hung her jacket over the back of her chair, placed her elbows on the countertop of the bar and rested her forehead in the palms of her hands. As soon as Freddy placed her drink in front of her, she downed it in a few large gulps and asked for another one.

The woman was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way, with shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair cut into one of those sexy, shaggy styles. She was sitting at the corner of the bar closest to me, so I couldn't really see her whole face, but she definitely had a real nice figure, especially her backside. I frowned when I saw that all the other men in the place were checking out her ass, too. The funny thing was that the woman also looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place her.

After I sized up the competition and determined none of the other men in the bar could hold a candle to me, I decided to make my move. I picked up my bottle of whiskey, which was almost empty already and sauntered over to the bar. Since I couldn't have Terry for the rest of the night, this blonde would probably do just fine. Besides, most women just sort of fall into my lap once I turn on the old Morelli charm, so victory was assured. What can I say? It's a gift!

"Hey," I said to the woman as I slid onto the barstool next to hers and plunked down my glass of ice and the whiskey bottle. "I know this is gonna sound like a cliché, but what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The blonde glared at me for a second and then her expression changed to happy surprise as she exclaimed, "Joseph? Joseph Morelli, is that you?"

Unfortunately, I still couldn't place her, so I casually asked, "Do we know each other?"

"Omigod!" she exclaimed. "Of course we know each other; we were in the same graduating class. It's me, Valerie."

My eyes widened in surprise and I said, "Valerie ... _Plum_?"

"Yep," she nodded, "Valerie Plum... well, that's my maiden name, but as you probably know, my husband just abandoned me and the kids, so I might be getting a divorce soon and Plum'll be my name again." Then she giggled and took another long swallow of her screwdriver. Valerie looked like the kind of girl who usually drank wine coolers or an occasional light beer. The hard liquor was affecting her quickly.

"I'd heard that you moved out to California after you got married, but your mother told me all about your problems and why you came back home," I said, still not quite understanding why I hadn't recognized her, when it finally hit me and I asked, "Say, didn't you used to have _brown_ hair?"

"Oh, yeah, I did. But Steve, my soon-to-be-ex-husband, had a crush on Meg Ryan, so I dyed and styled my hair to look like hers and I've been blonde ever since. You know what they say: Blondes have more fun!" She giggled again and placed her hand on my forearm. Oh yeah, I knew I'd be getting lucky again tonight.

Valerie Plum had been one of the "good" girls back in our school days. She always did her homework and only dated "nice" boys, like Teddy Rinaldi and Harold Markowitz. Unlike her sister, Stephanie, Valerie was one of only a half-dozen or so girls in our senior class I never boinked – primarily because "Saint Valerie" wouldn't give me the time of day back then. I later found out that the other girls I'd missed turned out to be attracted to their own kind, anyway. The fact that the elder Plum sister was here now and getting drunk off her ass meant I would have a prime opportunity to complete my high school 'list,' although I'd never expected it to come my way in such an easy manner.

I even have it on good authority that this dame was a total virgin on her wedding night. According to my sister-in-law, who was best friends with one of Valerie's bridesmaids, the virginal bride was a nervous wreck by the time the wedding reception was over and it was time to consummate her marriage. I'd be willing to bet that her soon-to-be-ex-husband had never really put her at ease before they did the deed, either. Poor thing! I even began to feel sorry for her as I listened to her current tale of woe.

"...and after Steve ran off to the Cayman Islands with our babysitter, I discovered he'd taken all of our money with him – the louse!" Valerie's words had begun to slur together. "So I dragged my two little girls back home to Trenton and my mother tried to get me a job at the button factory…" She let out a loud hiccup, "Excuse me," she said daintily covering her mouth, "but they weren't hiring. So, Mom got me a job at the personal products plant instead. I'm supposed to start there on Monday. God, I hate my life!"

"Oh, it's not so bad, Val," I soothed. "I'm sure you'll be back on your feet and out on your own again in no time. I mean, look at your sister."

She stared at me blankly for a moment before she remembered and said, "My sister? Oh yeah, Stephanie!" Then she giggled again and said, "My mother is _so_ _mad_ at her!"

"Really?" I asked, wondering what sort of info I could wheedle out this drunken Valerie. "Why would anyone be mad at Stephanie?"

"Because she's a... a...a diniot!" Valerie exclaimed. "I mean… idiot. Omigod, I think I'm… _drunk_!" Then she giggled again.

"Why do you think your sister is an idiot?" I asked, trying to sound casual. I had my own ideas, of course, but I wanted to hear hers.

Before she answered me, Valerie gulped down her third screwdriver drink and asked for another one. Freddy glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and shook his head very slightly. I gave him the signal that meant we'd be heading out soon and he nodded his understanding. Luckily, Valerie thought that the nodding was about her drink and she didn't seem to notice that the bartender placed only plain orange juice in front of her this time.

"Stephanie thinks we're _stupid_," Valerie said, her speech affected by the alcohol she'd consumed. "She's being stubborn about going out with you, so she created this _fake_ fiancé so that our mother would leave her alone. Daddy and Grandma Mazur are buying her cockamamie story, but she's an _idiot_ for thinking that anybody else would believe her. For crying out loud, she's still trying to sell ladies' underpants! It's so embarrassing!" This came from a woman who had just gotten a job at the local personal products plant. Go figure.

"Well, Valerie," I said, feigning a yawn, "It's getting kind of late. May I walk you home? The 'Burg is mostly safe, but you never know."

"But I don't wanna go home yet!" she whined, sounding like an obstinate child.

"Won't your...parents be worried about you staying out so late?" I asked.

"I don't care!" she declared. "It's been a really crappy day! The kids kept running around, Grandma and Daddy kept yelling at them, Mom kept trying to convince me that my new job will be fine. My life sucks! But what can I do? I'll tell you what – I can sit here and drink until dawn. That's what!"

"Sorry, Valerie, but Freddy closes this place down at 2 a.m., so you won't be able to stay here until dawn," I informed her.

"Oh, darn!" Valerie exclaimed. "I told my mom I was going out for the _whole_ night to spend some time with my girlfriends. Of course, then she got mad at me, too, but she agreed to babysit the kids anyway." Then she leaned in close and whispered to me in a conspiratorial tone of voice, "The thing is, Joey, I didn't want any of them to see me like this, so I came down _here_ where I thought nobody would recognize me."

_Joey_? Nobody had called me that since high school. Drunken Valerie was being nicer to me than she ever had been before. Seizing the opportunity, I asked, "Would you like to come back to my place, Valerie?" I asked in a kind, nonchalant way. "It sounds like you have a lot on your mind. We could just ... talk."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she slurred. "You're one of those _bad_ Morelli boys my mother always warned us about when Stephanie and I were kids."

"Well, I used to be," I admitted, turning on the charm. "But things change. You know I'm a cop now, right? And I'm pretty good at listening to people's problems."

"That's right! I'd heard you were a cop," she said, more to herself than to me. Then she paused for a moment, clearly having an internal debate before she nodded and said, "I guess I'd feel safe with you. Okay, let's go!" Then I had to catch her, because her legs went all rubbery the moment she tried to stand up. Freddy just smiled and winked at me as he cleared away our dirty glasses.

Persuading Valerie to tumble into bed with me was almost too easy. After we arrived at my place, I let her prattle on about whatever was on her mind. Of course, I wasn't really listening to her because I was too busy trying to separate her from her pants. At first she protested, saying her divorce wasn't a sure thing and she didn't want to pass her problems on to me and _blah_, _blah_, _blah_. After I kissed her senseless, though, she basically gave in to me – just like almost every other women I've dated. _Take_ _that_, Stephanie Plum!

The good news, at least where I was concerned, was that bedding a woman like Valerie was almost as good as bedding an actual virgin. You see, women like Valerie tended to be extremely faithful wives. I was willing to bet she'd only ever had sex with her husband and no one else; therefore, she probably hadn't experienced anything close to what I'd given her. Yeah, it felt great to hear the ecstatic sounds she uttered while I had her in between my sheets that night and I knew she'd never forget what I'd done with her.

Unfortunately, now that I'd had another helping of 'Plum pudding,' I knew I had to get back into Stephanie's pants. There definitely would be fireworks with the younger Plum, but Valerie wasn't anything like her sister. There was no 'spark' in the older Plum girl to keep me coming back for more, that's for sure. And despite the good time I _know_ I gave her, she really seemed to be holding back, almost as if she really didn't want to get laid by anybody.

Hell, what did I expect? Valerie Plum wasn't anything like Terry Gilman, either – not even close. Well, except for the blonde hair, I guess. Now, I honestly could say I'd boinked every straight woman from my high school senior class. Yes, even though it had started out disastrously, this turned out to be my lucky night after all.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3 Chapter 87

**CHAPTER 87**

_Stephanie's POV_

I watched the tail lights of Joe Morelli's vehicle as he sped away from the curb and away from my neighborhood. It was such a relief to see that truck head back to the 'Burg. _Damn Joe Morelli! _His uninvited appearance at my house, as well as his subsequent tirade, had ruined my plans for confronting Papa/Rico/Ricardo on _my_ terms tonight. Now I'd have to switch tactics with Carlos' father and that wasn't going to be an easy task at this stage of the game.

At least we wouldn't have to go through the trouble of 'discovering' Rico's real name. Joe had done that part already, so there was no point in either of us pretending I hadn't heard the angry cop yelling out Mr. Mañoso's true name. Sighing inwardly, I turned my attention back toward the older man who was still standing on my porch, his wet overcoat and pants dripping water onto the cement landing at the top of the stairs.

"That was pretty brave of you there, _Mr. Mañoso_ – pushing a cop off the porch, you know," I said as I walked up the stairs and unlocked the front door. I graciously ushered him inside, selected a few towels from the powder room and continued, "It's a good thing Officer Morelli didn't hurt himself or this whole mess could have been much, _much_ worse. Here you go; sorry about the dousing." And I handed him the stack of towels.

Ricardo's face turned red under his tan skin as he accepted the towels and began to dry off his hair and clothes. He still was so upset that he didn't even remark on my use of his correct name.

"I do not care who he thinks he is," he sputtered angrily, "I just couldn't let that … that arrogant, asinine fool insult my honor – or your honor, for that matter – any longer! I cannot believe your mother actually _wants_ you to be with him!" There was so much indignation remaining in his tone of voice that, for some strange reason, it totally set me off.

"My honor? My _honor_?" I said, my voice raising a half-octave with each statement. I glared into Ricardo's face and held his dark eyes with mine. "You _dare_ to speak of defending my honor, but all this time you've been insulting my _intelligence_! Honestly! I'm not sure which insult is worse than the other. And as for my mother, well, you're almost as deluded as she is when it comes to what _you_ think is best for your family."

Ricardo sucked in air, but he appeared to be more offended than hurt when he sputtered, "Estefanía! How can you say such a thing? _I_ have the utmost respect for you. Carlos is a lucky man and I am proud to be so… ah, so close to him. Like a father to him, even."

"_Like_ a father to him?" I narrowed my eyes at Ricardo and said, "You really must think I'm stupid after all, _Mr_. _Mañoso_! That's right – I heard what Officer Morelli called you and it wasn't Papa or Rico _Herrera_, as you've led me to believe. I'm not exactly sure what I should call you now, but I'm seriously considering the label 'big, fat _liar_,' because that's all you've done since the moment Carlos introduced us to each other that night at _Rosa's_. Have you no shame, sir?"

"Estefanía, please!" Ricardo sounded frightened and desperate. "Let me explain."

"Oh, sure, _Papa,_" I let my voice drip with icy sarcasm. "Please explain to me why _your_ name is suddenly the same name as my fiancé's father's name. After what just happened between you and Officer Morelli before and after I arrived this evening, I'm quite eager to hear the updated version of your story now. In fact, I'm practically dying to know what really happened between you and Carlos and Mateo and Alejandro – oh, excuse me, _Alex_ – on the night Carlos introduced us all to each other. I mean, this ought to be pretty good – even if it does turn out to be just another _big, fat lie!_"

Sadly, this wasn't how I'd wanted the conversation to go. I'd envisioned giving Ricardo the same opportunities I had given to Mateo, but Morelli had already "outed" him during their argument. Hell, Ricardo Mañoso had actually outed himself. All I could do was watch my future father-in-law nervously lick his lips as he tried to come up with some ridiculous new story. I could almost hear the gears whirling around inside of his brain while I let the silence hang there between us, tempting him to speak more false words to me.

Finally, the man cleared his throat, straightened his damp jacket and began to speak – slowly and deliberately – as though he was addressing a small child. "It was for your own good, my daughter. Even though I never meant to hurt you or cause you any distress, my son did not want you to know who I really was."

My eye began to twitch and I said, "Omigod! You have _got_ to be kidding! I can't believe you're trying to blame Carlos for _your_ lies!"

He held up his palms in a gesture of surrender and shook his head in disagreement. "No, no! Don't misunderstand me, Estefanía. Carlos had his reasons and I had my reasons, but we both agreed it would be best for you not to have to deal with our entire family until after Carlos returned from his latest mission."

Somehow, I was able to force a few tears to well up in my eyes. "Is this … is this because I'm not a Cuban girl from your neighborhood?" I asked in a quivering voice.

He looked stricken and said, "Absolutely not! We Mañosos are not small-minded like that. In fact, now that I have had the opportunity to get to know you a lot better, I can safely say my wife and my mother and everyone else will love you almost as much as my son loves you."

"You're not just saying that to try to make me feel better about all of this are you?" I knew I was toying with Ricardo, but he was getting off so much easier than I had originally planned, so I kept prodding him along. "I mean, why didn't you just tell the truth from the very beginning? Look at what's happened since you started sneaking around behind your wife's back to give me cooking lessons. She's obviously suspicious of your behavior already. Don't you think she'll be even _more_ upset when she finds out what you've really been doing and with whom and why?"

"One day at a time, child," he said tiredly. "One day at a time."

"Wait a minute – don't you _dare_ patronize me!" I swiped away my fake tears and did my best to sound pathetic. "After a long, hard day, I come home to find you and that idiot cop exchanging words on my front porch. By now, I'm sure he's told everyone back in my old neighborhood _his_ version of what happened here tonight. Thanks to you, my life is going to become a lot more complicated before Carlos returns."

I turned away from him for effect and then slowly turned back. "Oh, and by the way, after everything that's transpired between us so far, I think it's probably best that I plan to hold my wedding reception somewhere else and _not_ at your restaurant. I'm sure you can understand – after all, I seriously doubt that _Carlos_ would want to celebrate anything, much less his wedding, at _Rosa's_."

The color drained from Ricardo's face as my words to him sank in and he nervously began to comb his fingers through his almost-dry hair. "Estefanía, please believe me," he said, "I never meant to hurt you. Do not punish… my family because of my actions."

"Ricardo – that's what I should call you now, right?" I asked and he winced and nodded in response to my sour tone of voice. "Ricardo, I have to do what's best for Carlos and me. We both know why _Rosa's_ is the last place on earth Carlos would want to have our reception, so let's not make this any more difficult than it has already become. Now I think … I think you should leave."

"Estefanía, no, please do not do this," Ricardo pleaded. He sounded so desperate I almost took pity on him right then. "I will do anything, _anything_ to make amends to you! I am sorry I hurt you, even though I did not mean to do such a horrible thing. Please forgive me!"

I sniffled dramatically and asked, "Why? Why should I listen to you at all?"

"Because I care for you, Estefanía – very much. And I now understand why my son, Carlos, loves you with all of his heart," he declared and I really believe that he meant it. "I cannot bear for you to be so upset with me. You have helped me in more ways than you know."

"I… I've helped you? I don't understand," I said forlornly, milking this moment for all it was worth. Originally, I had planned to throw the mother of all temper tantrums, but it seemed the 'brokenhearted' approach was working quite nicely. I'd have to remember this for future reference.

He grasped my hands and held them tightly, "Yes, oh yes! Our conversations opened my eyes and now I understand how my foolish behavior toward my sons has hurt them both. You have helped me see that I have been neglecting my wife for a long time. I'm ready to change, to be a better husband and father and even father-in-law. Please, Estefanía, give me another chance!"

I slid my hands out of his grasp and crossed my arms over my chest. Thinking quickly, I said, "Ricardo, I just don't know if I can trust you. Perhaps… perhaps we should have a fresh start."

"Yes, yes!" He readily agreed. "A fresh start would be good! You could visit the restaurant more often and become a … a special guest."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "A special guest? That sounds dangerously close to what Joe Morelli was accusing us of just a while ago. Somehow I don't think that Carlos would appreciate my constant presence at _Rosa's_ – and, trust me, neither would your wife."

"Okay, okay, you're right," he agreed. "But if you become more of a regular customer, no one would look twice if we had a normal conversation now and then. You could get to know me and my son, Alejandro, in our natural setting. Perhaps… perhaps you could help us work out our problems, too. You know, as practice for when Carlos returns."

"You're asking for a lot, Ricardo," I said hesitantly. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to conduct any additional amateur family counseling sessions with you and your sons. My focus is on Carlos. _He's_ my future and I want it to be the best future possible – for both him and me. Perhaps you and I should just… keep our distance."

"What about our cooking lessons?"

I sighed and said, "Listen, Ricardo, I think we can still be friendly toward one another and keep in touch on an occasional basis, but _you_ need to be way more careful about visiting with me, whether we're at _Rosa's_ or here." Then I paused and stared straight into his eyes again. I knew I would be at the restaurant when Rosa and Teresa unveiled their _Babe_ campaign photos, so it was time for me to toss out another trump card. "For all you know, your wife could have hired a private eye to follow you around and catch you with me. And you're still all wet from when I sprayed water on you and Joe Morelli. How do you think you'll explain to your wife the true nature of our relationship _without_ violating Carlos' wishes for me to remain anonymous to your family until his return?"

Ricardo's face turned a sickly pale and he softly exclaimed, "_¡Madre de Dios!_ You could be right, Estefanía. If my Teresa ever discovered my actual whereabouts on all these Monday nights, she would kill me with her bare hands without stopping to hear an explanation. I should go back to the restaurant, change into dry clothes and head home immediately. I should not come by here again until you and Carlos are safely wed!"

"That would be best," I nodded in agreement.

"I am so very, very sorry, my daughter," Ricardo said as he prepared to leave. "I will not visit you here anymore, but I _will_ plan to call you every week to see how you are doing, okay? After all, you will soon be a member of my family and I want to be sure that all is well with you until Carlos returns."

I smiled and nodded again, but I had to get in one last parting shot, "And you'll get some _professional_ counseling to work through your family issues, right? I already belong to one severely dysfunctional family, you know, and I hate to think that I'll be joining another one." I was only half-kidding.

"I will give your suggestion some serious consideration," he said gravely as I walked him to the front door and, for some strange reason, I believed him. Tonight had been a serious wake-up call for this proud, stubborn and foolish man.

I extended my arm for us to shake hands, but Ricardo lifted my fingers to his lips and kissed them instead. Admittedly, the man could be as charming as his son and I realized that he and Carlos actually did share the same warm gaze, but only when he wasn't plotting and scheming. Ricardo gave me one last apologetic smile before releasing my hand. Then he opened the door and quietly left my house. Suddenly, the future began to look a tiny bit brighter after all.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4 Chapter 88

_A/N: Please keep in mind; the conversations between Ricardo and Mateo, as well as Ricardo and Teresa, are entirely in Spanish. We may insert a recognizable phrase here and there, but we really want you to think of the heat, the speed, and yes, the passion of the language as you read this chapter. Enjoy!_

**CHAPTER 88**

_Papa/Ricardo's POV_

_¡Madre de Dios!_ That foolish pig of a police officer nearly ruined _everything_ for me!

Now that Estefanía had discovered my true identity and connection to Carlos, she had every right to dismiss me without a backward glance. But she _hadn't_ done that. No, instead, with tears in her beautiful blue eyes, she told me how very disappointed she was with the whole situation. That was, by far, the worst I had ever felt toward a woman. Usually, the hot-tempered females in my family yelled and screamed their displeasure outright or they gave me the ice-cold silent treatment until I figured out what was wrong with them. Tonight was something quite different.

I couldn't believe Estefanía might have thought I disapproved of her because she wasn't a Cuban girl. The idea never even crossed my mind until she mentioned it. Now, with my mother, _that_ will be quite a different story, especially since she is so old-fashioned. When the truth comes out, I am sure my mother will chastise me for not raising my wayward son to honor his Latino heritage. _¡Dios!_ There will be such wailing and complaining! My imagination was quite vivid and I cringed at the probable scolding I would receive. Oh well, we would just have to cross that bridge when we got to it. Tonight had enough problems of its own.

Of course, losing Estefanía's wedding reception was a major blow to my ego and I knew my son, Alejandro, would be furious with me once he found out what had happened and why. But that, too, would have to wait. My first order of business would be figuring out how to smooth things over with my wife. I couldn't help being terrified at the thought of Teresa hiring a private investigator to track my Monday night activities. For all I knew, she might be planning to confront me with her suspicions as soon as I walked through the door.

Sighing heavily, I decided I'd made enough mistakes with Estefanía and Teresa, and it was time for me to take charge of the situation like a real man. My plan was simple: go into _Rosa's_ to turn off the lights I had left on earlier to give the impression that I was here as usual, change the telephone settings again, and then change my clothes and go home to Teresa. Not surprisingly, my hands were shaking as I pulled out of the driveway and drove away from Estefanía's townhouse.

At first, I was lost in my thoughts about how to explain everything. Then I happened to notice the constant headlights in my rearview mirror. I had been followed before, back when I wouldn't agree to pay certain fees to a rising Mafia boss after my father passed away. I never forgot that eerie feeling – the prickling of the hairs on the back of my neck and the cold shivers of dread. My suspicions were confirmed when I finally pulled into the back parking lot of _Rosa's_ and saw that my "tail" had parked a half-block away. My instincts told me it was the cop – that hideous Officer Joseph Morelli – behind the wheel.

Fear and fury battled within me. How _dare_ he follow me? What was he trying to prove? No way was I going to allow this arrogant, piss-ant fool to intimidate and harass me. I couldn't believe this sad excuse of a cop was the man that silly Mrs. Plum wanted her daughter to marry instead of my brave and honorable Carlos. It was absolutely absurd!

Glancing over my shoulder, I entered the restaurant through the back door. The way my luck was running, it wouldn't have surprised me if Alejandro had been there, especially since he was becoming so unpredictable these days. I breathed a sigh of relief when I discovered that my oldest son wasn't sitting at his desk. After I quickly changed into one of the spare outfits I kept in my office, I picked up the telephone receiver and called my nephew, Mateo. More relief swept over me when he answered after only two rings.

"Mateo! Thank God I was able to reach you!" I breathed.

"Tío Ricardo?" Mateo answered. "What's the matter? You sound upset."

"That's because I _am_ upset," I readily admitted, and then hesitated because I wasn't sure how to tell my nephew about my current predicament without revealing my recent dealings with Carlos' fiancée. "I'm afraid I had a … sort of … um, problem ... with an obnoxious police officer this evening. He was off-duty, but I'm certain that he followed me … ah, I mean, I think he's still in his vehicle, watching the back door of the restaurant to see where I might go when I leave. I don't know what to do."

"Was this _problem_ related to the restaurant?" Mateo asked warily.

"No, no," I hastened to say, "Everything is fine at the restaurant. Although, this officer – his name is Joseph Morelli – did threaten to send over one of his friends from the Health Department."

Mateo sighed and said, "I don't understand, Tío Ricardo. _Rosa's_ isn't even open on Mondays. Did this guy get a stomach bug over the weekend and then try to blame it on your food?"

Now it was my turn to sigh. Mateo and his wife had been very right about the foolishness of my whole plan with Estefanía. Nevertheless, I wasn't in the mood to hear 'I told you so,' from my nephew so I just said, "No, thankfully, this isn't about our restaurant's food. In fact, I don't think he has ever eaten here. It's just that, well … it's more of a personal matter."

"A personal matter?" Mateo sounded as if his eyebrows had lifted toward his hairline. "Tío, does this happen to have anything to do with Stephanie Plum?"

"Ah … well, yes it does," I admitted. "The cop was waiting for her at her townhouse when I arrived to give her another cooking lesson. He thought I was there to be her … her _lover_. Can you imagine? Poor Estefanía! I cannot believe her silly mother actually wants her to marry such a swine! Of course, I had to defend my honor, but he didn't believe me, even after I showed him the restaurant menu with my name on it."

Mateo groaned. "Oh, no, Tío Ricardo! You gave the man your actual name?"

Speaking very quickly, I continued to explain my predicament, "Anyway, we …um, exchanged words after he accused me of being _too old_ for Estefanía. I was so offended by his crude accusations, I finally identified myself as the father of Estefanía's fiancé, but the idiot still wouldn't believe me. He was very rude and he became quite belligerent. Then Estefanía came home and saw us arguing. She turned on her water hose to spray us down before we could exchange any punches. I might have pushed the man down the steps, but he wasn't hurt. Nevertheless, Estefanía told him to leave and he was very angry. That's why I believe he might start stalking me now. I need your advice, Mateo. Is it possible for someone like me to obtain a restraining order against someone like this Officer Morelli?"

Silence. I could tell that Mateo was trying to maintain his composure. Then he exploded, "_¡Madre de Dios! _Tío Ricardo, I can't believe what a mess you've made of this! I _knew_ something bad was bound to happen. And no, you can't get a restraining order against Officer Morelli – especially since you say he hasn't really done anything to you yet. You'll be lucky if _he_ doesn't decide to press charges against _you_ for tonight's little altercation!"

"He wouldn't dare!" I exclaimed.

"Listen, Tío, the fact that we're dealing with a Trenton cop won't be helpful at all," Mateo said, sounding quite exasperated and worried. "Let me make some calls and then I'll get back to you. Since Alejandro isn't there with you, do you want me to come over so that you can walk out of the building with someone?"

I cautiously peeked out of one of the windows and was glad not to see the pesky officer's car parked along the street. Apparently, he grew tired of waiting for me to leave the building. At least, that was my hope. I had no doubts of Officer Morelli's ability to use police resources to discover my home address. I just didn't want to lead him there myself.

"Good news, Mateo," I said. "The cop is gone. I don't see his car anywhere, so there is no need for you to come over here."

Mateo made a scoffing sound and warned, "Tío, just because you can't see him doesn't mean he isn't still there. Are you sure you don't want me to drive around the block for you – just as a precaution?"

"No, no," I quickly protested as I turned off the lights. "I'm leaving now. Everything is fine. I'll drive around a little while to see if I see his car. If not, I'll call you when I get home."

Then I hung up the phone receiver, activated the security system and locked the back door. After hurrying into my car, I kept checking my rearview mirrors, but there was no sign of Officer Morelli. I experienced a great sense of relief when I finally parked behind my house. Only when I stepped inside and found Teresa in our bedroom – packing some of my clothes into a suitcase, no less – did I realize I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

"Teresa," I spoke cautiously, "What is going on here?"

Her eyes flashed angrily at me and she retorted, "I should ask you the same question, Ricardo!"

I crossed over to her and peered into the suitcase. Teresa had placed several stacks of neatly folded undershirts, boxer shorts, socks and pajamas in there already. Then I looked around the room and noticed several of my suits, as well as some of my casual clothes were no longer hanging in our bedroom closet. I couldn't remember any plans for us to go on a trip, so a cold chill ran down my spine as I braced myself to ask my wife what had happened to cause all this activity.

"Why are you packing my things, love?" I began hesitantly. "What has caused you to do such a thing?"

Teresa fastened the suitcase with a loud snap and turned to face me. The look in her eyes was full of anger as she said, "I'm packing your things, _love_, because you're moving into the boys' old room tonight. That will have to do for the time being, because I refuse to sleep with an adulterer!"

I felt the blood draining from my face and I stammered, "A …a _what_?" This couldn't be happening! My worst fears were coming true and I had visions of a private investigator showing my wife photographs of me at Estefanía's house. If that had happened as I imagined it, then I'd have to do some fast talking.

"You heard me, Ricardo," Teresa snarled. "You are a lying, cheating man – I would call you a son-of-a-bitch, but I respect your mother too much for that. Nevertheless, I _know_ you've been sneaking around with another woman and then trying to appease me with all kinds of gifts to assuage your considerable guilt. I've had my suspicions for several weeks now, but after tonight – I'm done! We will sleep in separate beds until I figure out what to do next."

"Teresa, no!" I gasped. "There has been a terrible misunderstanding. You … you must let me explain – it … it … it is not what you think!"

Clearly, my wife wasn't in any mood to hear me out. She lifted the suitcase off the bed and pushed it into my arms, coldly saying, "How could you, Ricardo? I've given you _everything_ – six children, more than a dozen grandchildren, with another one on the way, all my love, all my support, all my life! I went by the restaurant tonight and although the lights were on, you weren't there. Nobody was there. What kind of fool do you take me for? Tell me, how could you do this to me – to _us_?" The pain in her voice broke my heart.

The weight of the suitcase wasn't nearly as heavy as the weight on my conscience. My brain struggled to come up with the right explanation – one that would make sense to Teresa without giving away all of the secrets. I couldn't think of anything, so I began with a simple request.

"All right, Teresa," I conceded for the moment, "I can see you are very angry right now. I will go to the other room if you desire it, but first, I want you to listen to me. It is not what you think."

"No, I'm too tired right now," she shook her head in protest. "Besides, it doesn't matter – I know what I know. There's nothing more for you to say tonight. We'll talk in the morning."

"Teresa ... _please_!" I pleaded before she could push me out of our bedroom.

My use of the word 'please' had been a 'secret weapon' between us since the earliest days of our marriage. In fact, I used it so infrequently, my wife and children always knew I was serious whenever I said the magic word. This time, it seemed Teresa had difficulty struggling against herself in order to yield to me.

"Fine," she nodded curtly. Then she turned away from me and sat on the edge of our bed, as far away from me as she could manage. Her tight lips and angry glare told me I had very little time to get my point across to her.

Swallowing my pride, I told Teresa about everything – our son's quick engagement, the terms under which Carlos agreed to allow only a few of us to meet her, his fiancée's mother's meddlesome ways, the 'secret' cooking lessons, even the recent altercation with Officer Morelli. Her eyes had flashed and then glanced away for a moment when I told her Stephanie's real name and I figured she was shocked to realize the girl was not a Latina. I also warned Teresa to leave Estefanía alone; I was in full agreement about Carlos keeping his fiancée's personal life hidden from the nosy and overbearing females of my family. Of course, even though I played only a small part in the grand scheme of things, I did explain my reasons for all of my actions thus far, thinking my wife would be relieved to hear that I hadn't been having a love affair.

"So... now you know what I have been doing. I hope you realize I only have desire for you, my love," I purred at her. "Let us set aside this silly suitcase and I will show you how much I want you – right now." I released the suitcase, sat down on the bed next to Teresa and reached out my hand to stroke her face.

Unbelievably, she swatted my hand away and stood up. Then she began to pace back and forth in front of me and ranted, "How could you do this, Ricardo? How could you go behind my back and make me think our marriage was failing? How could you betray Carlos' trust and stay in contact with his fiancée? How could you get into a fight with a police officer?"

"What else was I supposed to do, Teresa?" I asked tiredly. "As the head of this family, _I_ am responsible for what happens. I just could not bear the thought of our soon-to-be daughter-in-law trying to handle everything by herself until Carlos returns. Perhaps I should not have been so sneaky about the cooking lessons, but at least you should be happy that I am not seeing another woman, es verdad?" [_true?_]

To my surprise, after I finished my explanation, Teresa looked even angrier than she had before. "Happy?" she scoffed. "You think I should be _happy_ about this mess you've made?"

I shook my head and said, "I am sorry, but 'this mess' as you say is obviously Carlos' fault, especially since he refused to introduce his fiancée to our family before he deployed. But that is all behind us now, and I suppose we had better honor his wishes from this point onward."

"_¡Madre de Dios!" _she exclaimed. "I _cannot_ believe you're trying to lay the blame at Carlos' feet! What is _wrong_ with you, Ricardo?"

Now I was confused, "What do you mean? It _is_ his fault – as I have just explained. Of course, I plan to have a nice long talk with Carlos when he returns. His conditions were unreasonable to begin with and his behavior in this matter really has been quite unacceptable."

"_His_ behavior?" Teresa yelled. "Ricardo, I'm much more concerned about _your_ behavior in this … this fiasco!"

"_My_ behavior?" I asked incredulously. Honestly! Sometimes, women just baffle me. They're so illogical!

Teresa was fuming more than ever. "Yes, _your_ behavior, you asinine fool! First of all, I cannot believe the way you treated our son – my Carlito – on the eve of his departure to such a dangerous mission. What if he never returns to us? Did you ever stop to think about _that_?"

"Carlos will be fine," I assured her. "Remember, he wasn't in that terrible plane crash and he has several good men on his team. If you want to worry about someone, Teresa, worry about me. _I am_ the one who has been under so much stress lately."

Teresa sputtered angrily for a moment and then she burst out, "Why does everything always have to revolve around you, Ricardo? Why must you always try to get the upper hand?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, not getting her point.

She tightly replied, "I mean, what kind of a man, knowing his son is going off to war – with a NINETY PERCENT chance of not returning, no less – chooses to blackmail him? I can't believe you tried to shame and provoke our son in front of the woman he loves! Actually, I suppose I can believe it. Thank God this Stephanie did not fall into your trap! And thank God she had the sense to know that you were wrong – as always – in your thinking. As for Carlos' wishes that we not meddle in his personal life, I will gladly adhere to them. It's the least I can do for him. When my son is ready for me to know about his fiancée, I'll be ready to listen. _I_ want to stay on _good_ terms with my children."

Exasperated over her arrogant tone of voice, I threw up my hands toward the ceiling and asked, "What are you talking about now? You imply that I am not on good terms with our children?"

Teresa crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a withering glare as she said, "Think about your relationship with Alejandro. I know something bad has been going on between you two. I've spoken to him already and I know that he is confused and hurting – and it's _your_ fault! I don't know what you think you're doing, but whatever it is, it's not working, so you'd better do everything in your power to fix this problem before you lose your other son, too."

"Lose my … I have only ever tried to do what is best for all of my children," I replied indignantly, feeling deeply hurt by my wife's angry words. "I _am_ their Papa and I always will be!"

Teresa rolled her eyes disrespectfully and snarled, "Yes, they are your children, Ricardo, and yes, you helped create them, but no, you don't own them. They are all grown-ups now – with thoughts and feelings and plans of their own. I thought you might have learned your lessons from the way your own Papa treated you, but no, you are actually _worse_ than your father was to you. You're becoming an even bigger bully than he ever was."

My anger flared and I growled, "I am _not_ a bully! I am a well-respected and productive member of society. Everyone in our community loves me!"

She sighed tiredly and said, "You might have money and position in the community, but you truly don't know your own family. Just ask your mother and you'll find out that you are more like your father than you think you are. And you know how much you respected him."

That really hurt. Teresa knew that I'd given up my own dreams to ensure the continued success of _Rosa's_ before my father died. Of course, I understood the sacrifices that were necessary, but I had chafed under my father's critical glare until I learned to accept my fate. Only with my wife did I share my most bitter disappointments and here she was, throwing it all back in my face. Nevertheless, I knew I was right – well, most of the time, anyway.

"Our children – except Carlos, of course – all love and respect me," I asserted. "How can you make such ludicrous accusations?"

"Look at the facts, Ricardo," Teresa said bitterly, "A bully wants his own way no matter who gets hurt. You always have to have the upper hand, even with me. Every argument, every decision, every detail – it's always about what _you_ want. Our children might respect you, Ricardo, but they also are afraid of you and they do whatever you 'command' of them to keep the peace. And as for love, please don't deceive yourself. Our children do not love you the way children should love their father. Oh no, it's an obligatory love, not a love from the heart. Only Carlos is different; he accepts the awful truth that his father does not love him as he is, so he just stays away. And I suppose I must accept the awful truth that, while I will always love you, I don't think I like you very much right now. Now, please, go to the other room so I may get some sleep."

And with that, she shoved me out of our bedroom and slammed the door in my face.


	5. Chapter 5 Chapter 89

**CHAPTER 89**

_Shortly after Mateo hung up the phone with his Tío Ricardo…_

Mateo was concerned the Trenton police officer, Joseph Morelli, was becoming a problem for both Stephanie and his uncle. Tío Ricardo's call earlier tonight about the cop tailing him disturbed him, despite his uncle's assurances everything was alright. Mateo decided to call his cousin's Army buddies to keep tabs on the cop, just to be on the safe side.

"Diego, this is Mateo Herrera, Carlos' cousin. Is this a good time to talk?"

"Mateo…your timing's fine. What's up?"

"Carlos' fiancée may have a problem with a local police officer. His name is Joseph Morelli. Stephanie's mother seems to be pushing this cop as a suitor for Stephanie in spite of the fact that Stephanie is engaged to Carlos. He's been harassing her and now he's tailing my uncle. I don't think he's going to leave Stephanie alone without some serious intervention."

"Well, we can't have Stephanie being harassed, can we? Seeing how he's a cop, we'll have to have ironclad evidence of any improper actions. Leave it to me and my buddies. We'll take care of this Morelli character."

"Thanks, Diego. I appreciate it and I know Carlos will definitely be grateful for your help in this."

"Anything for Carlos and his beautiful bride. I'll be in touch, Mateo."

Diego immediately called his Army buddies, Antonio, Miguel and Javier. They met up at a local bar to discuss the 'Morelli' situation. The first objective was to protect Carlos' fiancée. _The question was, just how far would this Morelli character go?_ Since Morelli was a local cop they knew they would need incontrovertible proof if the cop stepped over the line and committed any illegal actions. Morelli seemed to be raising the stakes and had now added Carlos' father to his harassment agenda.

After discussing various options, the four friends reluctantly decided to place security cameras at Stephanie's apartment, just in case. In order not to worry Carlos' beautiful novia, they agreed not to tell her of their plans to catch Morelli in the act of harassing her. They would conduct themselves discreetly and remain in the background, like they did when they had that little 'talk' with Stephanie's ex-husband Dickie Orr.

The very next morning, Tuesday, the four men arrived at Stephanie's townhouse just as two senior citizens and a pretty blond woman were exiting the place. Waiting until Steph's guests departed, the guys made sure Stephanie was also gone before they 'let' themselves into her townhouse. They hid several cameras inside and out all egress doors, including her garage doors. They networked the cameras to a laptop so they wouldn't have to intrude on Stephanie's home again, but could still keep an eye on anyone coming and going from her place. They hoped the intrusive action would be a brief temporary event that would either prove fruitless or provide them the 'ammunition' they'd need to convince the cop to back off.

Later that evening, when Diego reviewed Stephanie's security cameras, he was surprised they'd caught Morelli on camera that very afternoon breaking in to Stephanie's townhouse. The video feed showed the cop clearly using a lock pick to jimmy open her front door. He only stayed a few minutes. They hadn't put cameras in any of the rooms other than the foyer, garage and back deck because they didn't want to intrude on her privacy anymore than necessary. Because of that they didn't know what Morelli did while he was in her place, but they now had tangible proof that he illegally entered her residence. Since her townhouse was outside the Trenton city limits, the cop had no legitimate business entering her home. They knew they'd have to step up their protection efforts and add 24-hour surveillance of the cop to be sure things didn't escalate to a dangerous level.

_Stephanie's POV_

After last night's awful confrontation with both Joe and Ricardo, I was surprised I got any sleep. But Tuesday dawned bright and I was looking forward to going to work. As I poured my morning coffee and waited for my Pop-Tart to toast, I couldn't help but think about the events of last night.

I was glad to have the confrontation with Ricardo over with and I didn't regret my decision to stop our cooking lessons, but I was going to miss him. Our time spent together had made me feel closer to Carlos. Now that I knew he was my fiancé's father, I would have liked to get better acquainted with him if only for Carlos' sake, but his constant lies ruined it.

Well, at least I could look forward to my time with Rosa. Carlos' grandmother was a genuinely wonderful woman who loved her grandson as much as I did.

However, when I thought about Joe Morelli and his obnoxious antics, I lost my appetite. While I would have loved for last night to be the last time I ever had to deal with him, something told me I wasn't through with Joe yet, or rather he wasn't through with me. For whatever warped reason he had in his mind, he hounded me every time I went to the 'Burg.

Finishing breakfast, I gathered my things and was ready to leave for work when the phone rang. It was Valerie and she was upset about something.

"Steph, I d-d-did something really s-s-stupid and I need your help," Val's voice was quavering and I realized she was crying.

"Val, calm down. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not at home and I need you to pick me up," she sobbed.

"Where are you?" I asked, wondering where she could be this early in the morning if she wasn't at home with her girls. Maybe her car had broken down on the way to her new job at the personal products factory. Just the thought of having to work there would have most people crying.

"I'm at a man's house. Oh Steph, I didn't think…I didn't mean to_…(more sobbing)."_

_A man's house? _That didn't sound like my prim and proper sister_._ "Valerie, don't cry…tell me where you are."

_(More wailing)_ "I'm at Joseph Morelli's house. Steph, I don't know how, but I think we did 'it' last night."

_Omigod! _"Valerie, you didn't? Tell me you didn't sleep with _that pig_… and that's not a reference to him being a cop."

"Steph, just come get me, _please_."

"Okay, okay. Is Joe there?"

"No, I'm here alone. I think he went to work. I locked myself in the bathroom as soon as I woke up. I just want to go home. Please, come get me and take me home."

"Hang tight, Val. I'll make sure you get home as soon as possible."

_What a mess!_ What could have happened to make Valerie go home with that bastard? She wasn't the type to sleep around, though I knew Morelli had no scruples when it came to seducing women. I was proof of that.

Lately, Morelli seemed to be obsessed with me. If I went to pick Val up at his place and anyone saw me, the 'Burg grapevine would be buzzing that I was 'seeing' Joe, or worse, chasing after him. I couldn't pick up Valerie myself. Joe would hear that I'd been at his house and take that to mean I was interested in him.

I couldn't waste time arguing with myself any longer. Poor Val! She sounded so upset.

I called Grandma and asked if she and Wilbur could pick Valerie up and bring her to my townhouse. Neither of us needed to have Mom in the middle of this. Grandma was only too happy to help.

It wasn't long before the three of them were sitting around my dining room table. I'd made a pot of coffee and brought out Carlos' latest delivered dessert, a deliciously rich coffeecake, and waited for Val to explain her predicament. She had calmed down a bit, but was still quite upset and unable to talk much.

Valerie added some milk and several spoonfuls of sugar to her coffee and stirred nonstop for one solid minute. When she finally set the spoon down, she started fidgeting with her napkin. She wouldn't look me in the eye.

"Val…" I began.

"Don't say it," she cried and looked up at me. "Don't you think I already despise myself for what I've done? Don't you think I've already asked myself over and over again, 'How could I have been so stupid?' I don't know how it happened, Steph." She started crying all over again. I pushed a box of tissues across to her and waited for her to pull herself together.

"Start from the beginning," I said. "How did you and Joe… hook up?"

At the mere mention of Joe's name, tears leaked out of Val's eyes and she put her head in her hands and sobbed. Grandma scooted closer and put her arm around Val's shoulders. Wilbur looked decidedly uncomfortable, but stayed at the table ready to support my grandmother any way he could. Wilbur was proving to be a very nice man.

Taking a ragged breath, Valerie finally opened up. "I just wanted to get a drink. After everything that has happened to me, I just needed a little time alone to feel sorry for myself. I mean, I deserve a little 'me' time, don't I?" She pushed a strand of her shaggy blond hair back behind her ear.

"Who'd have thought my life would have come down to this… soon to be divorced, living back home with my parents and working at the personal products plant? And to top it off, my girls cried when I took them to enroll in St. Stephen's grammar school yesterday, the same school you and I went to when we were kids. I tried to put on a happy face for them and told them this was an adventure… the start of a _new life_." She said the last few words sarcastically while dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

"They just kept crying and said they wanted their old life back. And they kept asking for their father. I haven't kept what Steve did to us a secret, but they're too young to really understand what it means." My sister looked so dejected, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her, but I was doubly sorry for my nieces. Their entire world had crashed around them and they had no idea why.

Grandma gnashed her dentures and said, "You and my great grandbabies are better off without that flat-assed, cock-for-brains bastard. The girls at the Clip 'n Curl said he deserved a Bobbit-cut, or what I call a cockbotomy." She held up two bony fingers and made a scissoring motion. Wilbur blanched. Grandma's defense of her brought the first smile to Valerie's face I'd seen since she'd arrived in Trenton with her two daughters, bags in hand, one week ago.

Val continued, "It was so different from their modern school in California. Angie complained the school smelled and was old and ugly. When we were walking through the hall to leave, Mary Alice let out one small whinny. She wasn't loud or disruptive, but the assistant principal shushed her and told her outbursts like that wouldn't be tolerated. Both girls cried all the way home." Val sniffled and blew her nose.

"And I wasn't in any better shape. I've been dreading my first day of work at the personal products plant. Remember how we used to make fun of the girls who worked there? It's a horrible job. Who the fuck wants to box tampons all day long?"

She blushed and turned to Wilbur. "Excuse my bluntness. I'm not myself today." _Pfuph_… she made a disgusted sound. "I haven't been myself since I found out my husband _left me_ for the babysitter."

Wilbur patted Val's hand. "You don't have to watch your language around me, sweetie. And, if you don't want to be yourself, you can be whoever you want to be. Your Grandma and I do it all the time." Valerie gave him a puzzled look and quickly cut her widened eyes to me. I gave her a slight head shake to just ignore it. She took a long sip of coffee before she spoke again.

"I still can't believe my jerk of a husband not only cheated on me, he left me and the girls with nothing. No money, no car, no house. _Nothing!_"

Val slammed her fist on the table. I'd only seen Valerie cry and whine since she'd come home, dragging and defeated. It was good to see her get angry. So, did she sleep with Morelli to get even with her cad of a husband? That might make sense for someone else, but not for Saint Valerie.

"Okay, you were upset, Val, and with good reason. But that doesn't explain why you slept with Joe. You always said he was such a bad boy; that all Morelli men couldn't be trusted. What happened?"

Valerie closed her eyes and shook her head slowly from side to side. "I just wanted to get away from it all for one night. Just forget my problems for a few hours. So, Mom said she'd watch the girls and I went out for a drink."

I could understand that. "Where did you go?"

Valerie sat upright in her chair. "I didn't want to go anywhere I'd be recognized. I told Mom I was going out with some old girlfriends and not to expect me until morning. Then I walked several blocks to that bar on Adams Street, Freddy's Bar and Grill. Doesn't that sound like a friendly place? I thought it would be like that 'Cheers' sitcom on television," she sang the next phrase, "_where everybody knows your name_." She let a small smile show for a moment.

"I remember when I was in high school, Dad used to go there every now and then, so I thought it was a nice place, but Steph…it was a real dive. I should have turned right around and left when I saw how dark and dingy it was, but I didn't know where else to go. So I sat at the bar and ordered a screwdriver. I used to drink those in college." She let out a nostalgic sigh.

"I got to thinking about how much fun I had in college and how miserable I was now. And then a man sat next to me and gave me that tired old line about _'what's a nice girl like me...'_. I was just about ready to blow him off when I recognized the man was Joseph Morelli. I hadn't seen him since high school and he was as handsome as ever. We started talking and he was real nice to me."

I knew firsthand how charming Morelli could be when he wanted to get in a girl's pants. "So, you _slept_ with him?" I asked, incredulous Val could do something so impetuous. It wasn't like her at all.

"No, no. It was nothing like that. At least I didn't mean for that to happen. I intended to stay at the bar all night and drink my misery away, but Joseph told me the bar closed at two. He offered to walk me to his place and we could continue our talk. Just talk! He was a good listener. I declined at first, saying I couldn't go to a man's house, especially one with his bad reputation, but he said he'd changed. He's a police officer now. They're supposed to protect and serve. I only went with him to talk. I never intended for it to go so far. The next thing I knew, it was over and he was lying next to me in bed, sound asleep." Val blew her nose loudly.

Grandma Mazur piped up, "Just like a Morelli. Sweet talk you and then _Wham, Bam_ without a _Thank you, Ma'am_." She rolled her dentures around in her mouth and then put her hand on Wilbur's knee and smiled at him. "Not like my Wilbur here, who lets me know how much he appreciates me."

I wondered if she was speaking about Morelli men from experience. I hoped not, but the 'Burg was filled with Morelli men of all ages who prided themselves on their ability to get women into bed.

Val replied, "You're right, Grandma. As soon as he was done, he rolled over and fell asleep. I was mortified. And… in pain."

She turned to me and cried, "Steph, I never would have willingly slept with _any man_ right now." She crossed her arms over her chest and then rubbed her hands up and down her arms. When she was a child she used to do that whenever she was really upset. "You see, when I said Steve left me with nothing, that wasn't exactly true. He left me with…" Valerie's cheeks blushed bright red and she hung her head. I knew what she was about to say because she'd told me weeks ago before Steve had left her. But Val was still unable to look at me or at Grandma or Wilbur. "He gave me…_genital herpes_." Valerie clutched her arms tightly around herself and seemed to draw inward as if to make herself as small as possible. As if she was to blame for her cheating husband giving her a venereal disease.

In a small voice, she continued, "I don't know if he got it from the babysitter or one of his other affairs. Yes, I found out he's been sleeping around for years. I can't believe how naïve I've been. I guess I really didn't want to face just how awful my marriage was."

She looked back up at me. "And with all the stress I've been under, I'm having a terrible herpes outbreak right now. Not only is it contagious during an outbreak, it's painful as all get out. Too painful to have sex. I didn't mean for it to happen, but I was drunk last night, drunker than I've ever been. All I remember is Joey kissing me and the next thing we were naked and he was on top of me. I told him that I was still married. I tried to tell him I had _'a problem'_ right now and shouldn't have sex, but he just kept right on going. I was so embarrassed; I cringed the entire time. I know I should have been stronger, but…" She dropped her head into her hands and wept.

_Damn that man!_ I couldn't stand to see my sister so hurt and by Joe Morelli, of all people. He couldn't get away with this. The only reason he slept with Val was to get back at me, and because he was a _pig_. I wouldn't let him get away with hurting my family. I was going after Morelli. Before I left, I asked Grandma and Wilbur to take Valerie home when she was ready.

I thought about going directly to the police station to confront Joe, but decided to gather a little evidence first. I drove into the 'Burg and pulled into the empty lot at Freddy's Bar and Grill. The bar Valerie had gone to last night had once been a family place, but had gone decidedly downhill the past few years. It was too early for the bar to be open yet, but Freddy was there cleaning up from the night before.

At first he didn't want to talk to me, but I was persistent and eventually he opened up. I asked him if he heard anything of the conversation between Morelli and my sister. He said he'd been within earshot the entire time and confirmed Valerie's story that Joe had offered to take her to his place to talk, but he knew Morelli and knew they'd be doing more than just talking.

I asked him if Valerie had 'come on' to Joe at all. Freddy hemmed and hawed and finally said Valerie had been friendly to Joe, but more like old friends meeting up than potential lovers. Freddy related that Valerie was quite drunk and unsteady on her feet. He defended himself, saying he'd cut her off after her third drink. She had been reluctant to go home with Joe at first, but Joe told her he was a policeman and kept insisting he would take good care of her and they would just talk.

_That bastard!_ My sister had been drunk and Morelli knew it. He took advantage of her. He just couldn't resist adding another Plum to his list of conquests.

I figured Joe would be at the police station this early in the morning. It must have been a busy day because the lot was full and I had to park on the street. I strode in loaded for bear and ran straight into my childhood friend, Eddie Gazarra.

"Where's Joe?" I said through gritted teeth.

Eddie grinned, "What's he done now?"

"Where is _Officer Morelli_?" I asked again, not returning Eddie's grin.

Eddie sobered up under my withering glare. He raised his arm and pointed down the hall. I marched toward Joe's office. As a detective, Joe was one of the few officers with an actual office. The farther down the hall I went, the longer my blue-clad entourage got. First it was just Eddie following me, then Carl dropped in behind him, then Brian Simon and Mickey Maglio joined the march to Joe's office. I ignored the lot of them. I didn't care who heard what I had to say to Morelli. I was on a mission to expose a serial seducer.

Joe's door was closed, but I barged right in. He was on the phone. I stood in the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest, with a horde of nosy, gossipy policemen crowding in behind me.

"Uh…gotta go, Terry." Joe glanced at me and then at his grinning co-workers leering over my shoulder. He put his phone down and stood up.

"What's all this about, Cupcake?" he asked a little hesitantly.

"THIS…is about my sister Valerie. You've been up to your usual tricks, seducing vulnerable women. You took advantage of my sister last night pretending to care about her. You abused your badge, _Officer_ Morelli." There were chuckles out in the hall. I turned and gave them my Burg death glare until they shut up.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I think you came here just to see me again." Joe looked so damned smug as he strutted around his desk and parked his butt against it.

"What happened, Cupcake? Did you realize what you were missing? Your old geezer of a Latin lover just couldn't cut it and you wanted the Italian Stallion?" He made a suggestive hand gesture and cupped his crotch.

God, what colossal nerve he had!

"_You pig!"_ A collective gasp went up behind me. Exasperated, I turned slightly to the rapidly expanding throng of cops in the hallway and explained. "Not _that kind_ of pig, though he does give all cops a bad name."

I turned back to glare at Joe, but continued speaking to the other cops. "I was referring to his actions toward women. He uses and abuses them. And last night, he promised, as a police officer, to take care of my sister after she'd had too much to drink and then he seduced her. She was in a really vulnerable state after being deserted by her cheating husband and she was a little tipsy and not thinking straight. She thought they were just going to his place to talk, but this… this sorry excuse for a man took advantage of her."

Joe held his hand up in the 'stop' position. "_Whoa, whoa, whoa!_ I did no such thing. I didn't sleep with your sister and I certainly didn't seduce her."

"You did, too. She wouldn't lie about something like that. Were you stalking her like you stalk me? Do you have an obsession with _all_ Plum women? Maybe I should call my mother…_and my grandmother_…and warn them to be on guard against your sexual advances?" There was a ripple of laughter in the hallway. Joe frowned.

I was beyond frowning; I was livid. "_You make me sick_."

"_Jeez_, Steph. You're totally overreacting. Can I help it if women throw themselves at me? I'm not saying anything happened between your sister and me, but _she_ came on to _me_ last night. She was all over me. And who could blame her?"

He pulled himself up to his full height and hitched his pants tight over his groin. Joe looked past my shoulder and grinned at the guys behind me. Of course, they grinned back and elbowed each other in the ribs. _Men!_

I shook my head and shuddered. "This is all just a game to you, isn't it? She was just another notch on your belt. Was she your final conquest from high school…did she complete your list? I bet it made you feel like a big man to sleep with one of the _good girls_ who wouldn't give you the time of day in high school. Are you that _pathetic_ that you need to resort to seducing an inexperienced woman who had too much to drink?"

"I told you. I didn't seduce your sister. She came back to my place willingly. She was hot for me, just like all women are. Just like you are, Cupcake." That got my blood boiling and my voice level went up several octaves.

"I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole, make that a twenty-foot pole. I know you lied to Valerie. I talked with Freddy, the bartender. He confirmed that she just wanted to talk with someone. She was upset about her life and needed a shoulder to lean on. But Freddy said you had other plans. When she refused to go home with you…" I pointed my finger at him, "_you_ told her you were a _respected_ police officer and she'd be safe with you. Freddy said you told her you would just talk and listen to her problems. Then you got her in your house and took advantage of her. She was drunk and upset. She didn't want to have sex with you."

Joe stood up. "_All_ women want to have sex with me. I'm not saying we had sex, but she wanted me. You do too, if you'd stop lying to yourself. You wanted me back when we were teenagers and you want me now. Admit it, Steph, we had a lot of fun together." He took a step forward, his arm outstretched to me. I slapped his hand away and lit into him.

"_You bastard!_ I was a naïve sixteen-year old virgin and you definitely took advantage of me and then broadcast it all over the 'Burg. I'm glad I broke your leg. If I see you outside of your car now, I'll be doubly tempted to run you over and I won't stop there. I'll back up and do it again." That brought on another round of chuckles from the peanut gallery.

Joe widened his eyes in mock surprise and said, "Are you threatening an officer of the law? Better watch what you say to me, Cupcake. I might have to arrest you. Of course, I'd have to frisk you first. And I'd search you very thoroughly for weapons or contraband and enjoy every minute of it." He leered and tried to look down my blouse. I shoved him away from me.

"I'm not here about you and me. There _is_ no you and me and there never will be." I narrowed my eyes at him. "You slept with Val just to get back at me because I rejected you last night. That's really low, Joe."

"How many times do I have to say it? I did not…have sex…with that woman. And if I did have sex with her, she initiated it, She was all over me."

_Boy_, did I want to punch his lights out. I hated that I couldn't control the anger in my voice, but he brought out the worst in me. "Valerie wouldn't have had _sex_ willingly with _anyone_ last night. She tried to tell you, but you weren't listening." It was time to drop the big one on him. "You see, when her husband left her, he took all the money, but he left her a little _gift_ from his philandering days. He gave her _genital herpes, _and yesterday she had a major outbreak."

There was a murmuring out in the hallway and Joe looked stunned. I kept going, "In case you don't know, herpes outbreaks are extremely painful. Sex would be the last thing on Valerie's mind. She knew she was contagious and would never willingly infect anyone else the callous way her husband infected her." I let that unpleasant fact sink in.

Joe's eyes widened considerably and his mouth hung open as his brain digested that bit of news. His reaction confirmed his guilt in my mind.

I couldn't stand the sight of him anymore. He wasn't going to admit that he did a despicable thing to Valerie, any more than he ever admitted what he did to me when we were kids was wrong. I left him with something to think about.

With sarcasm dripping from my voice, I said, "But since you _swear_ you didn't have sex with Valerie last night, you have _nothing_ to worry about, do you? It's lucky you were such a _gentleman_. Genital herpes can be such a buzz kill with the ladies. I guess you dodged a bullet, Joe."

Since both Joe and I were Italian, I showed off my fluency in Italian sign language and then stormed out of his office, cutting a wide swath through the men in blue still crowding the hallway. I went out the back way forgetting I had parked on the street. I walked around the building and got in my car, banging my head on the steering wheel a few times in anger and frustration. He made me so mad. How could he deny it? I knew he seduced Val, and he did it to satisfy his ego and to strike back at me for refusing to fall at his flat feet.

I looked up just in time to see Morelli's car come barreling out of the police parking lot. He headed south on Chambers Street. On a hunch, I pulled out a few cars behind him and followed. He continued on Chambers for several blocks to Hamilton Avenue. I thought I knew where he was going, but to my disappointment he drove past St. Francis Medical Center.

But then he pulled in to the parking lot of an adjacent medical lab. I stopped a half block away and watched as he sat in his car for awhile. Sure enough, he finally got out and entered the side entrance to the lab. I knew this lab did all sorts of medical tests, from blood and urine work to medical imaging.

Why was Morelli in such a hurry to get here? I'm sure he would say it was for a case he was working on, but I'd bet my new townhouse he was getting tested for genital herpes. I hoped he had it and that his body reacted severely and frequently to it. I knew it wasn't kind of me to wish bad things on people, but in this instance, Joseph Morelli deserved this particular punishment. However, he'd probably find some way to blame me for him getting an STD. I figured I'd better steer clear of the 'Burg as much as possible until he cooled down.

I left before Morelli came out and decided to stop by to see Grandma and find out if Val got home alright. I told her about my confrontation with Joe and that he denied he slept with Valerie. Then I chuckled as I related that I also told him about the fact that Steve gave Valerie genital herpes and yesterday she had a bad outbreak and was contagious. I was laughing out loud when I told Grandma I followed Morelli to a medical lab next to St. Francis. We both agreed he went there to get tested because, of course, we knew he'd had sex with Valerie.

Grandma got a gleam in her eye, but she wouldn't divulge what she was thinking. I knew it couldn't be good. I was glad she loved me and never turned her wild ideas against me. It was a relief to go in to work and think about something other than Joseph Morelli.

. . .

As soon as Stephanie left, Edna Mazur got Wilbur to drive her to the Clip 'n Curl. When they arrived, Wilbur insisted on waiting in the car. The noxious perm fumes and toxic gossip made him feel a bit queasy.

Edna breezed in to the beauty parlor grinning from ear to ear. She had a plan, but she needed the help of her buddies at the salon. She gathered them round and told them of the rotten thing 'that Morelli boy' did to her distressed granddaughter. The 'girls' were incensed, but none wanted to anger his grandmother Bella. It was gossiped she had the evil eye.

Edna told them about her plan, 'Operation Payback.' It seemed to accomplish the goal of getting back at Morelli without drawing attention to any of them.

Edna gave out assignments. "Altuna, your daughter works at the Trenton Medical Lab near St. Francis, doesn't she?"

"My oldest girl is a lab tech there and I volunteer one day a week to help do the filing. It gives us a chance to catch up on family news and I like having something real to do."

"When is your next volunteer day?" Edna asked her friend.

"This Thursday," Altuna replied.

"Perfect. Time enough for the test results to be done." Edna rubbed her hands together, a look of glee on her face. "Now here's what I want you to do…" Edna and Altuna put their heads together and dropped their voices to a whisper. Cackles of laughter could be heard throughout the salon.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6 Chapter 90

**CHAPTER 90**

_Rosa's POV_

I cannot believe it is December already! I usually do not worry about the big Christmas rush, because I purchase gifts for my family all year long. By the time Thanksgiving has come and gone, I have already written greeting cards to faraway friends and family and I am ready to begin wrapping all the presents that have been safely hidden in my closet for a while. This year is different; there is so much to do and hardly any of it has anything to do with the holidays.

This morning, I discovered my son and his wife had slept last night in separate bedrooms. I know Teresa is trying to punish Ricardo for his sneakiness and dishonesty, but I hope she does not carry her plans too far. Foolish children! Life is too short. This morning, when Ricardo went out to his quarterly meeting with other local Latino business owners, I waited until I knew for sure Teresa would not notice my absence and I went to the restaurant which bears my name. There was the usual flurry of activity when I arrived. Thankfully, my grandson, Alejandro, politely ushered me into his office when I asked to speak with him privately.

"Abuela Rosa, this is such a pleasant surprise," Alejandro said, as he guided me to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "I can't imagine what has brought _you_ out on such a cold winter morning. May I offer you a cup of coffee?"

I shook my head and smiled sadly at him, "No, my boy, I only wish to speak with you while your nosy, busybody of a father is not hovering around and making trouble. The time for games has passed and I am trying to avert a disaster."

"Excuse me?" My grandson's eyebrows shot upward in surprise at my comments, but at least he had the good manners to blush with embarrassment at my speaking so bluntly.

"Let us just say a little birdie told me that Chef Gomez of _El Caríb_ restaurant has all but succeeded in luring you away from _Rosa's _and I cannot stand by and watch this idiocy any longer," I stated firmly.

Alejandro's mouth dropped open and shut several times before he croaked, "But … but I've been very discreet. I haven't spoken to _anyone_ about this. How did you know about Chef Gomez, Abuela?"

I smiled slyly and said, "I may be a quiet old widow, but I know people who know people, dear grandson. There are many secrets tucked away up here." I tapped a finger against my forehead. "Very little occurs in our tightly-knit community that I do not know."

"Do you think Papa knows?" Alejandro asked worriedly.

"No," I shook my head again. "He has been … ah, preoccupied with other things – as I am sure you must have realized by now."

Alejandro slumped against the back of his chair in relief and rubbed his hand down his face. "I didn't want to leave _Rosa's_ – I _don't_ want to leave. This is my home, Abuela, you know that. But Papa has made it very clear he doesn't trust me to run this place on my own – even after all this time."

"No, Alejandro," I shook my head in disagreement. "It is not that he does not trust you; it is that he is worried he has forced you into a career you might not have chosen for yourself if he had not pushed you into it."

"What?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"Your father, my son, has been doing some … how do you say? Ah, yes, soul-searching lately," I explained. "He is not going about it very wisely, but there you have it. In fact, he has upset everyone in his path. I hope he will come to his senses soon, but we must be patient with him, Alejandro. Please."

Alejandro looked stricken and said, "So all this stress and turmoil is due to some sort of mid-life crisis?"

I nodded and continued, "If you think _you _have been having a rough time, you should talk to your mother. She thinks your father has been having an affair."

"_Papa's_ seeing another woman?" he exclaimed.

"No, no, no," I answered with authority. "I know for a fact he is not. Unfortunately, my son's foolish behavior has affected his marriage in the same ways it has affected his relationship with you. Your mother is very upset with him and I plan to talk to her next, but I knew this morning would be the best opportunity for me to speak with you. Can I count on you to stay here and weather the storm, Alejandro? Everyone knows _Rosa's_ will belong to you someday. Please do not do or say anything rash while we all wait for your father to come to his senses."

"What if that never happens?" Alejandro asked quietly.

"Have faith, my boy," I patted his shoulder. "Have faith."

My grandson finally nodded his head and said, "Alright, Abuela. For your sake, I'll agree to stay put. It's a good thing you came here this morning, though, because I was going to give Papa my two-week notice tomorrow. I'll do my best to overlook my father's behavior, but I might have to set some new boundaries, rules to guard my own sanity."

I smiled proudly at him and said, "It is about time you stood up to your father, Alejandro! Remember – I still maintain a controlling interest in this establishment and I will stand behind you if … if my pig-headed son refuses to come to his senses in a timely manner. The time has come for me to assert myself in a more forceful way. I love my family and I want what is best for everyone – not just your father."

Then I hugged my grandson and quietly left him to his own thoughts.

Later that evening, I felt giddy with excitement over being able to give my future granddaughter-in-law her first woman-to-woman cooking lesson. Although I am fairly certain my son did an adequate job of teaching Stephanie how to prepare many of the basics of Cuban cuisine, _I_ will be the one to teach her how to cook Carlos' absolute favorite dishes – the ones I myself cooked for him when he was a boy. It will be my pleasure to impart such important knowledge to her.

"Rosa, please come in!" Stephanie greeted me at the front door of her marvelous townhouse. "I'm so glad you're here tonight. I've had the most horrific day and I really need to do something to take my mind off all the sad and scary things in my life."

After I removed my coat and she placed it in the front closet, I asked, "That sounds ominous. How are you doing, my dear?"

"Oh, I'm just fine and dandy," Stephanie answered too quickly as she poured a glass of wine for each of us and handed one to me.

"Do you want to talk about it before we begin our lesson?" I asked. "I would hate for you to take your frustrations out on the poor vegetables and other ingredients we will be using tonight."

Stephanie sighed and her shoulders drooped into a posture of fatigue. Then she explained, "It's just that everything and everyone around me seems to have gone crazy overnight. First of all, there was the whole big mess with your son, Ricardo/Call-me-Papa/Rico, and his silliness and lies. As you know, I finally got him to 'fess up' last night, but the confrontation left me feeling drained. Then there's that stupid cop, Joseph Morelli, who actually has the gall to think I must have the hots for him because he's been getting late night phone calls from some mystery woman – and I _swear_ it's not me! Now, I just found out the same stupid cop had a one-night stand with my older sister last night and it's going to turn into an even bigger mess than it already is."

I felt the blood drain out of my head and I gasped, "Oh, no! This is my fault. I am so sorry! I did not mean for this to happen. I only wanted to annoy him, make him lose sleep."

"Wait? What are you talking about?" Stephanie asked me, her confusion clearly written all over her face.

Closing my eyes against the embarrassment, I confessed, "_I _am the one who has been calling that horrible man, Joseph Morelli, at all hours of the night. I never would have thought he would blame you, my friend. Please forgive me."

"Omigod!" Stephanie exclaimed. "I can't believe this! You, Rosa? _You're_ Morelli's prank caller?"

I nodded solemnly, too ashamed to defend myself with words. I felt awful. Just when I was going to have the precious opportunity to cultivate a closer relationship with my future granddaughter-in-law, it seemed to be falling to ashes in front of my eyes. How could she ever forgive me for such an intrusion?

Stephanie paced across the room a few times and then whirled around to face me and said, "Oh, Rosa, this is great!" Her voice sounded excited.

"What? You are not upset with me?" I asked incredulously.

"No, Rosa," she shook her head. "Don't you see? One more phone call from you is all it's going to take to convince Joe Morelli of my innocence. Especially if you make that call while I'm standing right in front of him so that he'll know it couldn't possibly be me."

My breath caught in my throat as I realized the cleverness of Stephanie's plan and then I smiled widely at her. "You, my dear, have a delightfully devious mind. I like it!"

"Well, I like the way your mind works, too, Rosa. Please don't worry about the phone calls. I'm glad to know it was you all the time and we'll figure out when to end that particular scheme," she said confidently. "Now, I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to our cooking lesson tonight!" And she lifted her wineglass toward mine.

I lightly touched my wineglass to hers and replied, "Then let us begin without further delay." And that's exactly what we did.

We chatted about many things while we chopped and sautéed and seasoned and braised the various meats and vegetables. She told me about her previous cooking lessons with Ricardo and I told her about the trouble brewing in my son's household. She shook her head in sadness at the news of my son and his wife not speaking with each other and sleeping in separate bedrooms. Her jaw clenched in indignant outrage over the way my grandson Alejandro felt so unappreciated. Clearly, Ricardo was _not_ one of Stephanie's favorite people at that moment.

"You know, Rosa," Stephanie said as we sat down to enjoy the meal we had prepared together, "I'm really going to enjoy your 'coming-out' celebration this Friday. I can barely wait to see the look of shock on Ricardo's face when he realizes that both you and Teresa are beautiful, intelligent and independent women."

I nodded and said, "Yes, my son's days of strutting around like a rooster are certainly numbered. Perhaps he will be shocked into sensibility, but I am not holding my breath. He's a stubborn old fool – just like his father."

Then I sat back and enjoyed the sight and sounds of Stephanie Plum enjoying her food. I have never heard anyone moaning with delight over the taste of a simple home-cooked meal. Yes, my Carlito has chosen a warm and passionate woman to be his life-mate, and I am happy for him.

_Alex's POV_

_¡Dios!_ I placed my fingers on both sides of my face and rubbed my aching temples. I rarely receive any visitors at work, but this has been an extraordinary week. Yesterday, my grandmother, Abuela Rosa, dropped by to ask me not to leave the restaurant. I don't know how she found out that one of our main competitors, Chef Gomez, had asked me to consider moving from _Rosa's_ to his equally upscale establishment, _El Caríb_. I was certain that no one knew about my interviews, except, of course, my wife. And I knew she wouldn't betray my confidence in such a matter.

Stephanie Plum was my second visitor of the week, and, oh my, was she intense! It's no mystery why my brother is so enamored with her. She definitely is a force with which to be reckoned and I'll never try to deceive her – _ever_ again. Of course, my defenses were already in shambles because of my grandmother's earlier visit. Carlos' fiancée had had very little trouble toppling whatever defense had remained standing after my earlier conversation.

"Miss Plum, this seems to be my week for visitors," I said, trying to sound casual as I ushered her into my office for privacy's sake. Then, after she settled into the same chair in which my grandmother had so recently been seated, I asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit with me this Wednesday?"

Stephanie's blue eyes gazed at me with a cool, assessing glare and she announced, "In light of recent events, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel my wedding reception here at _Rosa's_. Although I already informed Papa of this change in plans, I wanted to make sure I explained myself to you personally. There already have been enough misunderstandings and I don't want them to continue."

My stomach lurched and I felt all the blood drain from my face. "I'm very sorry about your change in plans, Miss Plum. Has something … happened? I mean, you and my … ah … are you and Carlos still planning to get married?" I couldn't believe I had almost slipped up and asked about her and my _brother_!

"Alex, Alex, Alex," Stephanie said, shaking her head in a gesture of pity. "Don't you think it's high time you gave up this ruse? You and I both know who we are, so let's stop playing games. Aren't you tired of all the deceit? I know I am."

If I hadn't already been sitting down, I probably would have fainted right then and there. Dread filled my belly and I swear I saw spots dancing in front of my eyes. I knew this stupid scheme between Carlos and my father would backfire on us. Obviously, this woman my brother wanted to marry was smarter than any of us had given her credit for and it was time for me to come clean with my part in the misguided plan.

I heaved a big sigh, put up my hands in a gesture of surrender, and said, "Perhaps we'd better begin at the beginning."

Stephanie regarded me for a moment, nodded her head once and said, "Fair enough. Hello, my name is Stephanie Plum and I'm engaged to marry a wonderful man, Carlos Mañoso, when he returns from a very important military mission." Then she thrust out her right hand for me to shake.

Grasping her hand in a firm, but friendly way, I replied, "Pleased to meet you, Stephanie. My name is Alejandro Mañoso, but everyone calls me Alex. Only my father and his mother call me Alejandro. Oh yes, and as you already have figured out, I'm Carlos' older brother. How did you discover the truth?"

She smiled wryly at me and said, "I have my ways."

All I could do was shake my head in amazement as I said, "I'm sorry about … about all the lies, Stephanie. I truly am. Please don't blame Carlos. Trust me, he's only wanted to protect you from the very beginning."

"That's all well and good, Alex," she replied, "However, I need more than a simple apology here. I want an explanation."

What could I do? Obviously, she knew a lot more than she was saying and I had a feeling she would know if I tried to tell her any more lies about the situation. I took a calming breath and began to explain. I told her everything – my father's long-standing anger at Carlos for not wanting to follow in his footsteps, our opinions and worries about the craziness of Carlos's new Will, the stupidity of the plan to meet her without her really knowing who we were – everything. After I finished spilling my guts, Stephanie's blue eyes seemed to bore holes through my skull.

"Thank you, Alex," she finally said. "Thank you for telling me the truth. I only wish you all – Carlos included – had told me the truth from the start." Then she told me about her little chat with my cousin, Mateo.

"I'm sorry we all behaved so badly," I admitted. "But you have to understand, my father forced Carlos' hand and he dragged me and Mateo into this mess with him. Even though we wanted to meet you, Papa _demanded_ we do things his way. And when he did his best to make Carlos lose his temper that night, I thought everything was going to blow up in our faces right then and there. I'm sorry we all stood there judging you without you knowing about it. Damn! I wish we could turn back the clock and do things differently. I truly do."

"There's no point in wishing that," Stephanie said. "We can't change the past, but we can do better in the future."

I shook my head and continued, "Did you know that the night before you came to the restaurant, our entire family had gathered to welcome Carlos home, but they all had to wait for Papa and me to get off work? And the sad thing is we weren't really needed; it was a slow night. All the staff knew about our family party, but my father insisted he and I put in a full day's work. I felt sick and angry when Carlos told us he was going out on another mission so soon. My brother had so little time to spend with us and Papa had foolishly wasted most of it by being such a workaholic."

Stephanie's lips tightened angrily and growled, "Men! I, for one, can't wait for my future life with Carlos to begin. But make no mistake, when he returns to Jersey, I'm going to kick his fine Cuban ass for _his_ part in this whole mess. I only hope we'll be able to fix all the damage caused by the arrogance and high-handedness of _all_ you Mañoso men."

"You don't know the half of it," I sighed wearily.

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply. "Are there more secrets? If so, Alex, you'd better tell me now."

"No, no, no. I wasn't referring to any secrets about Carlos. Honest!" I held up my hands again in surrender. "I'm just talking about … my own problems."

And then, for some inexplicable reason, I sat there and told Stephanie all about the strange and upsetting conversations I'd been having with my father lately. I talked about our differing opinions on running _Rosa's_, as well as the probability of me leaving the family restaurant to work at a different establishment where I would be appreciated as my own person and not just as the boss' son. I even told her about the recent advice my grandmother had given me.

"It sounds like your grandmother is a very wise person," she said, after I finally had finished telling her of my woes. "I'd follow her advice if I was you."

Nodding my head, I replied, "Trust me, I'm thinking about it. Now I just have to figure out how to confront my father and make him listen to me."

"Not an easy task," Stephanie laughed. "I had to spray him down with a garden hose to get him to listen to reason."

"What?" I exclaimed.

Stephanie smiled wickedly and told me about my father's altercation with a local cop who'd been harassing her and about the confrontation she'd had with my father after the other man left them alone. Then she explained about the conversations she'd had with my father while he was giving her cooking lessons. Cooking lessons! She even told me he wanted to atone for the way he had pushed me into a profession he thought I no longer wanted. I could hardly believe my ears.

"But I love to cook!" I assured her. "And I'm damned good at it, too!"

"No argument here," Stephanie shrugged. "It's just that your father is trying to make sure you're happy. I think he feels guilty for all the times he's forced you to stay late. He wants you to have more time with your wife and kids. He doesn't want you to end up like him."

"Well, I'll be damned!" I whistled in disbelief. "Papa feels remorseful? No wonder he's been acting so strange. I'm sure he's never felt a day of remorse before he got to know you, Stephanie. I don't know what to say."

She smiled again and said, "Say 'thank you,' Alex. And don't do anything rash, like quitting _Rosa's_. Your grandmother is right and I think your father's going to need you now more than ever."

"Thank you, Stephanie," I replied. "Thank you for walking into my brother's life and changing our world. Thank you for not letting my father and Mateo and me get away with lying to you anymore. You're really something special, you know?"

Before she got up to leave my office, Stephanie shook my hand and told me she was looking forward to bringing her girlfriends back to the restaurant later that evening for a little "girls' night out" celebration. She'd really just wanted to clear the air between us beforehand. All I could do was nod and promise her that the first round of drinks would be on the house. She smiled her dazzling smile at me, wiggled her fingers in a friendly salute, and left me to my own thoughts.

_¡Madre de Dios!_ My little brother's fiancée certainly was a spitfire. I could hardly believe that my uptight, tradition-bound father had entangled himself, and indeed all of us, in such a foolish scheme, but now I understood the cause of the recent tension between my parents. Not that there were any doubts before, but my father was certainly proving himself to be a prize ass. However, now that Stephanie had tattled on him, I had some great 'ammunition' with which to fight him. I sat down in front of the office computer and began to type.

Later, when he arrived at the restaurant, Papa appeared to be somewhat distracted. His eyes turned wary when I asked to speak privately with him and we went into the office. My heart sank as we sat down across from each other in the leather chairs, and I noticed the darkness underneath his eyes. He looked exhausted and dejected. I almost felt sorry for what I was about to do. Really, though, my stubborn father had left me no choice.

"What is it that you want, Alejandro?" Papa asked impatiently. "You know the dinner crowd will begin to arrive any minute now. We must…"

I cut him off by saying, "I've been doing this for a long time, Papa. I know what needs to be done."

He continued, "This is true, but…"

I interrupted him again. "No, Papa. I just need a moment of your time. Here, please read this." Then I handed him my letter of intent to seek different employment. It was neither a direct resignation nor a two-week notice, but I wrote it specifically to catch my father's attention. By the look on his face, I'd succeeded.

"What the devil is this?" Papa raged.

"Just what it says," I calmly replied. "I'm giving you one month. I know you've been under some kind of stress lately, but I can't take your abuse much longer."

"Abuse?" he yelled. "What do you mean _abuse_?"

I sighed and began my well-rehearsed explanation. "In case you haven't noticed, Papa, I'm a full-grown man and I have been one for some time now. I'm also a very good cook and I love my work – I really do. Nevertheless, you treat me as though I'm still a young pup, wet behind the ears. You're constantly undermining my authority with the junior staff and it's very frustrating. If you truly don't want me to run _Rosa's_ then I will seek employment elsewhere."

"But … but … you _can't _leave!" Papa sputtered. "This is our family business. _Rosa's_ is the Mañoso family's restaurant. My father sacrificed practically everything he possessed to build it and make it what it is today."

"Yes, Papa, he did – including you," I whispered. "And then you turned around and did the same thing. You've sacrificed everything, too … including me. But I can't continue like this. I _won't_ continue like this. Things must change for the better if I am to stay on here. Still, I have a family to support. I'm giving you one more month of my service. Think of it as a sort of 'probation.' If everything stays the same with you, though, I swear I'm outta here. There are at least two other restaurant owners who'd love to hire me sooner rather than later."

My father's face turned purple with rage and he exclaimed, "You've already talked to other restaurant owners? How could you be so disrespectful toward your own father? You've brought shame on my head!"

"You see? This is what I'm talking about," I said. "Everything is always about you. You're so self-absorbed, Papa. You've always been that way and it's been getting worse and worse. Now it's finally taken its toll. I understand that even Mama has stopped speaking to you."

Whatever words my father was going to say next died on his tongue. The color drained from his face and his suddenly ashen appearance startled me. We stared at each other in tension-filled silence for what seemed to be hours. Finally, Papa exhaled a deep breath and slowly rose from his chair. I rose up from my chair, too.

Papa cleared his throat and said in a calm voice, "You were always such a good boy, Alejandro. I can see that you are now a man – a good man. I do trust you with _Rosa's_, but I want you to be happy here. Starting with tonight, we'll alternate nights in the kitchen. I guess I'll just … ah … I'm going home now."

Stunned, I replied, "Remember, Papa, I'm giving this one month. Then we'll see."

He nodded and walked out of the office. Only then did I allow myself to sink back into my chair. My father's declaration certainly had taken me by surprise. By alternating our nights, I would have more time at home with my own family than I'd had in years. Ten minutes later, I hurried into the kitchen to begin my night's work. It had taken me that long to stop shaking.

_Stephanie's POV_

Girls' Night Out was a blast! After work, Tina drove us out to the 'Burg to pick up Mary Lou. Then we headed back to Newark to go to _Rosa's_. The first time we'd dined here, the girls had been very impressed with the Old World sophistication and charm – as well as the hot Latino waiters – of the restaurant. It made me sad and angry that I no longer could have my wedding reception at this lovely place. I'd explained my dilemma to my friends earlier, but now that they saw the restaurant for the second time, they protested my decision.

"Stevie, how can you _not_ have your wedding reception here?" Tina practically wailed as we headed over to the bar. "This place is _perfect_!"

I shook my head, "Not if Carlos hates it. Remember, this is the scene of so much unhappiness for him. It would be torture for him to have to endure a big celebration with his family here – especially with all the bad vibes between him and his father. I just can't do that to Carlos. I love him too much."

"Well, this place sure beats the pants off any of the halls and restaurants in the 'Burg," Mary Lou chimed in once we had taken our seats and placed our drink orders. "It's a damn shame you can't have the reception here. Jeez! Look at that dance floor!"

"I know," I groaned. "That's where Carlos and I danced when he brought me here. It was so romantic!"

"And all that time he hated this place?" Mary Lou sounded incredulous.

Tina took a long sip of her mojito and said, "It's because of all the family drama, right?"

"Right," I nodded and reached for my drink.

"Oh, well," Mary Lou said. "The clubhouse at Bel Aire is very nice, too. I'm sure we can decorate it perfectly fine. You already reserved it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," I assured her, and then raised my glass toward my friends. "All right, enough wedding talk. I'd like to make a toast to Girls' Night Out."

"Woo hoo!" Both Tina and Mary Lou exclaimed and we all drained our glasses.

We ordered another round and the smiling bartender informed us that the first round was on the house. Then he tilted his head toward the kitchen and I saw Alex standing there. True to his word, my future brother-in-law had provided our first round of mojitos. Alex made a beckoning motion to me.

"Who's that cutie?" Tina asked.

"He's Carlos' brother," I replied and excused myself from our little trio. "Be right back," I called over my shoulder.

"He's also the head chef tonight," I heard the bartender tell my friends. "He told me to take special care of Miss Mazur and her party tonight.

"Miss Mazur?" Tina and Mary Lou asked in unison.

When I realized they were about to blurt out my real name, I turned around and gave them a 'Burg glare that meant 'Play along with this – or else!' Thankfully, Mary Lou caught my look and bumped Tina in the ribs before she could correct the bartender. It had been a long time since I'd explained about Carlos' earlier misunderstanding with my last name. Despite his best efforts to keep my name private, too many people already knew the truth. It would not be good for any more of the Mañoso family, especially Carlos' sisters, to 'discover' my identity.

"It's good to see you again, Stephanie," Alex said when I was standing in front of him.

"Long time, no see," I quipped. "Thanks for the drinks. My friends and I really appreciate it."

Alex smiled and said, "My pleasure. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," I replied and followed him through the double doors and around the corner into the office. The delicious smells from the kitchen caused my stomach to growl loudly.

"Whoa! Was that your belly?" Alex asked.

I knew I was blushing when I said, "Yup! It's about time to feed the beast."

Alex laughed and said, "Well, I remember the way you ate every morsel when Carlos brought you here for dinner. I appreciate a woman who appreciates my cooking. Have a seat. This won't take long."

"Good news or bad news?" I asked.

"Good news, I think," he replied. "I had a nice little chat with my father this afternoon. We now have an agreement of sorts. I told him I'd be leaving in one month if things didn't change around here."

"Oh boy," I said. "Now what?"

Alex smiled again and said, "Tonight I have the place to myself. Papa and I will alternate nights here at _Rosa's_. We'll have to see how that works out, but it's a good start. I just wanted to thank you for giving me a push in the right direction. That round of drinks was the least I could do. Next time you bring your friends on a night when I'm here in the kitchen, I think I'll toss in complimentary desserts, too."

"You're shameless, Alex Mañoso!" I exclaimed in mock horror. "Why, I do believe you're trying to drum up business on your nights."

"Guilty as charged, ma'am," Alex grinned mischievously. Damn! He looked just like Carlos when he smiled like that.

"I'd better get back to my friends," I said, trying to hide my sudden feelings of missing Carlos. "I hope things work out between you and your father."

Alex escorted me back out to the bar and I introduced him to Tina and Mary Lou.

"Thanks for the drink," Tina said in her flirty voice. "That was so nice of you!"

Alex beamed and gave a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement.

"He's married, remember?" I whispered in her ear. "And you're almost off the market yourself."

Tina rolled her eyes, but immediately turned back to Alex and said, "Stevie tells us you're Carlos' brother. Smokin' hot good looks must run in the family."

Mary Lou jumped in before Tina could make another wise-ass remark and said to Alex, "You must be real proud of him. I mean, serving our country and keeping us all safe back here is very important."

Alex looked perplexed for a moment at the use of my nickname and then he replied, "Yes, we're all proud of Carlos. We just hope he'll stay home longer once he's a married man." Then he turned to me and asked, "Your friends really call you 'Stevie'?"

Thankfully, the hostess arrived to escort us to the dining room before we could get wrapped up in a discussion about the inappropriateness of my nickname. I truly enjoyed my fabulous dinner of _Papas Rellenas _and _Empanadas_ for appetizers and _Paella Valenciana _as my main course, with _Flan de Leche _for my dessert. I had chosen each dish to help me feel closer to Carlos. I missed him so much! Since Tina was driving, I drowned my sorrows in a few more mojitos.

After we finished eating, we drove back to the 'Burg_._ Tina complained loudly that Mary Lou was the only one of us who was going to get laid anytime soon and then she declared that a trip to Pleasure Treasures was in order. Mary Lou just laughed and insisted we drop her off at her house before we went shopping.

"As you well know, I don't need any toys," Mary Lou said as she got out of Tina's car. "But now that you got my mind headed in that direction, I think Lenny's gonna be real happy he agreed to stay home with the kids while I had a night out. Oh, yes, he's gonna be _real_ happy." Then she skipped up to her front door and waved at us as we drove away.

"Smug bitch!" Tina exclaimed as she drove away from the curb. "She's so frickin' lucky."

I didn't reply to that. I still felt pleasantly buzzed from my wonderful meal – and perhaps one too many mojitos. When we arrived at Pleasure Treasures, I merely followed Tina around the store and waited for her to decide between the _Super Turbo Lady Workhorse_ and the _Wamba-Wamba Wand Deluxe_. None of the toys looked particularly interesting to me, so I wandered over to the massage oils and pondered the difference between regular cherry flavor and maraschino cherry flavor. Suddenly, I heard a very familiar voice behind me.

"You'll get more mileage out of the _Wamba-Wamba_, dearie," I heard my Grandma Mazur advising Tina. "My friend Myrtle bought that other one and she said it quit on her just at the moment of…"

"Grandma!" I turned around and interrupted. "What are _you_ doing here?"

She snorted and said, "Same thing you young things are doing here. A woman's got needs, you know."

"Okay, okay, Grandma," I said hurriedly. "Please don't explain. _Please_. We're just leaving, right, Tina?"

Tina just nodded. Neither of us wanted to hear another word about _needs_ from my grandmother. Suddenly, I felt almost sober and I tugged on Tina's coat sleeve to move her along to the checkout counter where she purchased the highly-recommended _Wamba-Wamba Wand _and we practically ran out of the store. As soon as we drove away, we both laughed until we cried.

"I can't believe your _grandma_ was in that store!" Tina finally gasped between guffaws.

"I can't believe you actually bought the thing she recommended," I choked out. "Aren't you afraid she'll tell _your_ grandma?"

Tina barely stopped laughing and said, "Damn! I sure hope my grandma doesn't ask to borrow it, 'cause I ain't sharing."

We continued to laugh and giggle all the way back to my place. Yup! Girls' Night Out definitely was a blast.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7 Chapter 91

**CHAPTER 91**

_Stephanie's POV_

This Thursday was only half gone and I was already exhausted, but in a good way. I was riding a cloud of anxious anticipation. Our entire team at Books/Plum Designs had done its job well and our new _Babe!_ Nation campaign was set for its big media launch tomorrow.

Dawson and I spent the morning reveling in our preview copies of more than a dozen fashion magazines featuring our new ads with the catch phrase, _'Are you a Babe?'_ I couldn't believe we were in such big time magazines such as Vogue, Cosmopolitan, Allure, Marie Claire, Elle, W and InStyle.

The casting for each magazine ad had been done by Keira. She had an uncanny knack for pairing each model with the right magazine to reach its target audience. We were pushing all our efforts to capture consumer interest, _and dollars_, in time for the holiday shopping season. Dawson had insisted we place at least two different full-page ads in each magazine. It was expensive and only time would tell if it was a successful strategy.

Dawson had ordered lunch in so we could continue to gloat over how great our ads looked amidst all the other full color ads that the multi-billion dollar fashion-based companies, like Revlon and Calvin Klein, had. Our everyday models came to life on the pages and you couldn't help but stop turning the magazine pages and look at our ads. The evocative question written across the top of each photo, "_Are you a_ _Babe_?' made you think, _"What is this ad all about?"_

I was much more comfortable with this second campaign, since I wasn't featured in it. Although, I was still 'in the news' and had already given several interviews that our advertising department had written up as 'person of interest' and 'new designer' articles and these were running concurrently in several of the magazines.

When Dawson saw Rosa's picture in Vogue, he got an ear-to-ear grin that I thought would split his face in two. It was obvious he was a man very much in love. Rosa was perfect for Vogue. Her picture was elegant, right down to her modern black and white over-sized pearl necklace. In her photo, Rosa had a mysterious 'barely there' Mona Lisa smile that captivated all who saw it. She was the ideal representative to show that our _Babe!_ lingerie was not only for young hip women, but also for older sophisticated women.

Teresa's picture was just as compelling, but in a more overtly sexy way. She was the epitome of the new mature woman who wasn't afraid to let her sensuous side show. Ricardo's jaw would not only drop to the floor, but I'd bet he'd be drooling as well when he saw his wife's ad. Keira had selected Teresa's ad to appear in Cosmo. Both Mañoso women looked fabulous.

Even Grandma Mazur's ad in 'O', Oprah's magazine, looked wonderful. Our hair stylist and make up artist truly had performed miracles with my grandmother. My parents, and the Burg gossips, were going to be flabbergasted when they saw the beautiful woman in this ad. Of course, Wilbur would be the only one who would look at it and see Grandma as he saw her everyday. He also was a man head over heels in love. Grinning to myself, I knew Wilbur AND Grandma would make sure _everyone_ in the Burg saw this ad.

Keira's own ad was running in 'O', as well. She looked absolutely fabulous. Over lunch earlier this week, I'd mentioned to Keira that I knew a great guy who was interested in meeting her. She blew me off until I told her he was a military man and a friend of my fiancé. That definitely sparked her interest. It seems our unflappable Keira gets all hot and bothered by a man in uniform. When I pulled out my phone and showed her Tank's picture, her eyes lit up. Her response was typical Keira, though. "Hmm. I guess it couldn't hurt to meet him sometime." That was about as excited as Keira gets. So, now I just had to find a way to get her picture to Tank.

Tina's ad, along with Stella's, was in Allure and she was beside herself, all giddy and giggly. She couldn't wait until her 'boyfriend' Lester Santos saw it. If he was crazy about her sight unseen, he would be in full-blown lust when he set his eyes on the _Totally Spicy_ photo of his 'girl.' And they hadn't even met yet.

I was anxious to show the ads to the rest of the girls at work who had their photos taken for this campaign. They all looked wonderful and did our company credit. _Our company!_

I couldn't believe I was a junior partner in Books/Plum Designs and that my friends also owned a percentage of the company. I was still amazed when I thought of how many of my friends' lives had been touched by my _Babe!_ lingerie line, and all in a matter of a few months.

And _this had happened_ because of one special night and one special man. When I'd impulsively decided to have that one-night stand with a dark sexy stranger I met in a hotel bar in Newark, I'd made my lover-for-a-night promise to agree that _**this never happened!**_

Now, that night and resulting weekend with Carlos were the basis for the rest of my life. Without Carlos encouraging me to fly, to reach for the brass ring, I never would have had the courage to jump in with both feet when Dawson offered me a job. I thought longingly of my Carlos and wished he were here. I said a little prayer to keep him safe and out of harm's way.

Dawson's chuckling brought me out of my daydream about Carlos. He was still looking at Rosa's ad. He finally tore his eyes away from the picture of his beautiful Rosa and turned to me.

"When Rosa told me the secret she'd been keeping from me was that she was your fiancé's grandmother," he started, "I was floored by her connection to you." He shook his head as if in disbelief.

"Stephanie, you are the gift that keeps on giving, as far as I'm concerned," he continued. "First, you help me revive my failing business with your fresh new lingerie designs, and then you make it possible for me to hire your friends, who have been instrumental in revamping my entire marketing division. And now, I find out the reason I met the new love of my life is because of you, too. You're my good luck charm, and I thank God for that October day we met at E.E. Martin."

"That was a pivotal day for me, too, Dawson, in more ways than one," I admitted. "I can't thank you enough for taking a chance on me, and my friends. And tomorrow, after our new campaign is launched, we'll know if your hunch was worth it."

Then I smiled and told him, "As for you and Rosa, I am only too happy to be the catalyst for bringing you two lovebirds together. You've both become so important to me in such a short time."

"I'd have to say ditto to that, kiddo." He patted my hand and looked back at the Vogue ad. "Rosa is a remarkable woman. You must know how deeply I feel about her," he said, with a slight hesitation, almost a question.

"Yes, Rosa has confided in me about her feelings for you. She feels she has finally met the love of her life."

Dawson sported a goofy grin so unlike him. He was as besotted with Rosa as she was with him. I was so happy for both of them. They deserved to find love again and it seemed this was a match made in heaven.

Dawson told me, "Tomorrow, at the big party she has planned, she'll introduce me to her family. I'm not sure what to expect, but I'll be glad to finally get it out in the open. Looks like we'll both be related to the Mañoso clan soon."

"Are you saying what I think you are?" I asked. Were there wedding bells in their near future? Had their romance blossomed that quickly? As if I was one to talk, with Carlos and I falling in love in a matter of hours.

There was a twinkle in his eye as he said, "All I will say is keep Valentine's Day open, okay?"

My eyes widened at that statement. I was about to ask another, more searching question when he continued, "Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow evening for our 'guest' appearance at _Rosa's_?"

He obviously wasn't ready to divulge more about his and Rosa's plans. I dropped the issue for now and answered, "No, I'll be driving myself, but thank you, Dawson. I'm looking forward to seeing Rosa's family's reactions when she unveils her and her daughter-in-law's _Babe!_ posters. I have my own reasons to be especially interested in her son's reaction."

"_Hmmmm_. I'll let that cryptic comment slide for now," he said. "By the way, that was a wonderful idea…to let each _Babe!_ model have their own poster to display in their office or home. Word of mouth is still a powerful advertising tool. Rosa will be stopping by tomorrow to pick up her and her daughter-in-law's posters," he grinned, always eager to see more of his love interest.

Dawson gathered up the many fashion magazines strewn across my desk. "I'd like to take these around to the staff who worked on the campaign and especially to the women who are featured in the published ads. Do you want to join me in congratulating our incredible team?" he asked.

"You betcha." I picked up the last few glossy magazines and we headed down to my friends' offices.

. . .

Early Friday, Edna Mazur and her 'significant other' Wilbur, and a half dozen of Edna's friends gathered at the Tasty Pastry at 4 a.m. They left the bakery's parking lot each armed with a stack of multi-colored flyers. Fanning out over the Burg before the sun had even risen, they slipped the flyers underneath the windshield wipers of every parked car they came across. They were at it for several hours. Burg residents woke to find several thousand flyers scattered on car windshields throughout the neighborhood. The infamous Burg grapevine network would do the rest.

The tired soldiers of 'Operation Payback' trudged into the bakery and fortified themselves with several donuts apiece. Before they left, to take a long nap, they high-fived each other on a successful mission.

Joe Morelli was on call Friday and sure enough, he was called into work early that morning. As he walked out to his driveway, a couple of his neighbors saw him and started waving a piece of paper at him and laughing. Joe waved back to them and they laughed even harder. Frowning, he continued on to his truck. He saw a green piece of paper tucked underneath his truck's windshield wiper. He noticed most vehicles parked on the street had green, blue, yellow or pink pieces of paper on their windshields, too. Figuring someone was trying to sell something, he ripped the paper off and threw it on the floor of his truck. He needed to get to work.

When he got to the station, a bunch of his fellow police officers were clustered outside the back doorway. Each man had a different colored paper in his hand. The cops were completely absorbed in discussing whatever the paper was about. Joe got out of his truck and slammed the door shut. The cops looked up and saw Joe. They immediately started pointing and laughing.

On a hunch, Joe got back in his truck and swiped the paper from the floorboards. He finally got it unfolded and turned right side up. As he read the contents, his jaw dropped. Joe's heart started beating fast and he had a sick feeling in his gut. _What the fuck…?_ The flyer was a copy of his results from the lab test he had done on Tuesday. _How…?_ He quickly scanned the results. _Damn, damn and triple damn!_ They were positive for the antibodies for genital herpes. He turned an unlovely shade of green, matching the chartreuse color of the flyer. He looked back at the cluster of cops. They were still laughing. Joe shoved the key back into the ignition and turned the engine over, tearing out of the parking lot. He was fuming and determined to get to the bottom of this fiasco.

As he drove down the street, he saw parked car after car, each with a flyer on its windshield. Luckily, Joe's windows were rolled up tight as a high-pitched scream erupted from his throat.

He just drove around for a while trying to make sense out of it all. When had everything gone so wrong? And then it hit him. _Stephanie Plum!_ It all started when that bitch had come back into his life. The last time he'd had anything to do with her, she'd run him over with a car and broke his leg. Anger boiled through him and he made a beeline for Newark and Stephanie's office. He didn't know what he was going to say to the bitch, but it wasn't going to be pretty. He knew she had to be behind this disaster and he wasn't going to let her get away with it.

He pulled in to the large parking lot behind the Books/Plum Designs offices. While he was trying to get his anger under control so that he wouldn't outright shoot Stephanie as he was tempted to do, he saw her walk out the back door. She was alone.

Opening the driver's side door, he put one foot out, but then his phone rang. "_What?"_ he growled into the receiver.

A soft feminine voice chanted a now familiar refrain, "Cupcakes are not yummy if they belong to someone else." And then the call disconnected.

Joe stared at the phone and then watched as Stephanie calmly crossed the parking lot and slid into a silver Porsche. She didn't have a phone in her hand. _Then who the hell was making these stupid calls?_

Joe slammed his door shut and put pedal to the metal and tore out of the parking lot, even angrier than when he'd arrived.

A silver-haired woman stepped out from the passenger side of another car in the same parking lot and smiled as she watched the truck speed away. She continued across the lot and entered the back door of the building. Twenty minutes later, she came out accompanied by a smiling older man. He was carrying a large flat package wrapped in brown paper, which he placed in the back seat of her car. After they exchanged a quick affectionate kiss, he opened the passenger car door and helped the woman in. He didn't return to the office until the car had driven out of sight.

_Stephanie's POV_

I was too excited to sleep much and, by 6 o'clock Friday morning, headed into the office. We all hoped today would be a busy day of answering phone calls and emails as businesses responded to the launch of our _Babe!_ Nation campaign. Staff in our Administration department had started a pool as to how many new lingerie orders we'd take in on Friday alone. The entire company was excited and everyone could feel the energy upon entering the building.

And the excitement would continue tonight, when I'd meet Carlos' entire family, though I'd only be introduced as Dawson Books' designer and business partner. Still, I'd have the opportunity to observe the Mañoso family dynamics and see Carlos' four sisters, the ones from whom Carlos had tried to 'protect' me. During my last phone call with Ricardo, he told me his wife Teresa now knew who I was. Would she confront me directly or, I shivered as a sliver of trepidation ran through me, would she reveal my identity to the rest of the family?

The morning was hectic, but immensely fun. I talked with a bazillion reporters and just as many people high up in the fashion industry. Our ads were a big hit and were creating quite the buzz as everyone asked the question, "_Are you a_ _Babe_?" Staff was buried under a ton of catalog requests and, at one point, the website crashed from too many people trying to access it, but Amanda had it up and running again in no time.

But then, I started getting phone calls from friends and family telling me about thousands of flyers that had mysteriously appeared overnight on the windshields of cars in the Burg. The flyers were copies of a certain cop's medical lab results for a range of venereal diseases. With a sinking feeling, I discovered what my grandmother had been up to earlier in the week.

Mary Lou was the first one to call and tell me about the flyers. She said the flyer showed the results were positive for the herpes antibodies. And now, everyone in the Burg knew Joe Morelli had genital herpes. I smiled as I thought that Joe would have a much harder time finding willing bed partners from now on out.

I called Grandma and confronted her about the flyers. She confided that a friend of hers from the Clip 'n Curl had a daughter who worked at the medical lab I saw Joe go into Tuesday. The mother frequently volunteered to do the filing at the lab while she visited with her daughter. Grandma's friend searched through the patient files until she found Joe's test results. Then another friend agreed to print the flyers at cost and the women from the beauty parlor went across town posting them on every parked car they could find. I chastised Grandma, saying medical results were confidential for a reason and I couldn't condone what she'd done. She told me she was too old to wait for Karma to punish Joe. The Burg grapevine was at its finest that Friday and I figured I'd better lay low for awhile and stay out of Joe's line of vision. Knowing him, he'd probably blame me for the whole mess.

I was getting excited about the evening's events and decided to leave work early. I even left before the winner of the 'new orders' pool was announced. As I walked to my car, I was deep in thought about the _Babe!_ campaign and Rosa's 'coming out' party. I wanted to look especially nice tonight, because even if they wouldn't know I was Carlos' fiancée, I would be making my first impression on his family. Dawson and I had agreed on the time we both would arrive at the restaurant. Rosa said she would reserve an out of the way table for us so we could observe the family, but not be seen by Ricardo until she introduced us. Rosa was quite the battle strategist – just like her grandson.

I spent hours showering, shaving and applying just the right amount of makeup. Then it took me forever to decide which dress to wear. You'd have thought I was dressing to meet the Queen of England, instead of my fiancé's family. I was as nervous as I was the day I took my first pregnancy test. That was a few weeks after I stupidly gave my virginity away to Joseph Morelli. What an awful memory. I hoped tonight would be a more pleasant one.

Dawson was waiting for me when I pulled into the parking lot at _Rosa's_. As soon as Dawson gave the maitre d' his name, the friendly man immediately escorted us to our table. The Mañosos hadn't arrived yet. We both ordered non-alcoholic drinks, wanting to be alert and on our best behavior for whatever happened tonight.

We definitely could tell when the family arrived. All the wait staff bustled about, inspecting the large special table one last time, as waiters added ice and water to the crystal glasses anchoring each place setting. The Mañoso party would take place at one end of the main dining room, rather than in one of the private rooms. More, I'm sure, of Rosa's careful planning.

True to her word, Rosa had selected a night when Papa, I mean Ricardo, wasn't cooking. Alex was executive chef tonight and would only be able to join the family sporadically. Ricardo proudly led his family into the restaurant and, after making several loud instructions to the wait staff, seated his family around the big table. They made up quite a large party, even though only the adults were present. I assumed all the children must have stayed at home with the older teenaged kids acting as baby-sitters or with other family members.

Ricardo escorted Rosa to a seat at the head of the table and he and Teresa flanked her on either side. Next to Ricardo was a woman about my age. I thought she might be Alex's wife Carolina. The four Mañoso daughters and their husbands were also all in attendance.

To my surprise Mateo and Lucia joined the family at the large table, along with an older woman I took to be Mateo's mother. Ah yes, Mateo's mother was Teresa's sister. I definitely could see the family resemblance. Of course, Teresa would want her sister here to celebrate her accomplishment as a _Babe!_ model, especially since she was sure Ricardo wouldn't be excited for her. Carlos had told me that his mother's sister was the one who raised him after his father and grandfather kicked him out of the house when he was a teenager.

Ricardo briefly left the table to speak to the maitre d', probably to 'catch up' with current restaurant business and give special orders for dinner. He looked very officious and very proud to have his family in his restaurant. If he only knew what his mother had in store for him tonight. I could barely wait to watch everything unfold!

While Ricardo was gone, Rosa commandeered two of the young busboys, who disappeared into the coatroom and came back carrying the _Babe!_ posters on wooden easels, setting them up near the family's table. She had covered both posters with black silk cloth and secured them with several large clips to prevent anyone from seeing what was underneath.

Before she returned to the table, she looked our way and winked. She certainly was enjoying herself.

Dawson touched my arm when he saw Rosa bring the covered posters out. "She's quite the showman, isn't she?" he said proudly.

"More like the director of 'shock and awe'," I replied. This evening promised to be very entertaining; I just hoped there would be no bombs going off. I was glad to be tucked away in my little corner, though I was eager to see Ricardo's reaction to it all.

When Ricardo returned to the table and saw the easels, he looked puzzled for a moment and turned to the busboys waiting nearby. Rosa grabbed his elbow and maneuvered him back to his chair, saying it was a little surprise of hers for later. He blustered and waved his arms for a bit until his mother gave him an imperious glare.

It was obvious she was flaunting the fact that _she_ was the matriarch of this family and everyone better do her bidding. Once again, I was glad Rosa adored Carlos and felt he could do no wrong, and as long as I kept him happy, I could do no wrong either. She would be a formidable opponent.

The family settled down and soon the waiters brought out appetizers and special drinks. Alex came out briefly and spoke with everyone. Dawson quietly translated for me as everything the family said was in Spanish. Alex informed them he was preparing a special dinner per Abuela Rosa's instructions. At one point, Ricardo leaned forward and started to contradict Alex, but seemed to catch himself and sat back in his chair, biting his tongue. Alex stood a little straighter and seemed more confident after that. There was lots of loud talk and laughter. In spite of their dysfunction, they were clearly a loving, happy family.

I studied every face trying to determine which sister was which. Celia was easy to spot. She was older, in her mid-thirties and dominated the conversation. The man with his arm over the back of her chair must be her husband. He was a big man, but quiet and mild-mannered. The twins, Maria and Pilar, revealed themselves by their personalities. Maria liked to laugh and joke, while Pilar scowled and rolled her eyes, and continually hushed her twin. Lena, the youngest sister, had to be the pretty young girl who was obviously pregnant. Her husband Marco was very attentive and had held out her chair for her. He looked very gallant and still very much in love with his new bride.

I realized I'd been rudely staring at them for several minutes, so I dug into the delicious smelling food our waiter had placed in front of me. It was also rude to ignore my partner. I focused my attention on the handsome gentleman sitting across from me. "So, Dawson, are you nervous about meeting Rosa's family tonight?"

He smiled, "Actually, no. Eager is more like it. Rosa and I have been behaving more like star-crossed young lovers than like senior citizens. I'll be happy to finally be able to properly escort her to and from our dates instead of sneaking off on our clandestine meetings."

"But that sounds so romantic and exciting," I said.

"I'm a straightforward man, Stephanie. I want to start off on a respectful note with Rosa's family."

"Well, I can vouch for your sterling character, Dawson. And I understand your desire to be upfront with Rosa's family. I wish I had that option, but Carlos left me little choice in the matter. I'll respect his wishes for now, but _we will_ have words about it when he is back safe and sound." There was no heat to my threat; I missed Carlos too much to be angry with him.

"You miss your soldier man, don't you?"

At Dawson's words, I felt like the floodgates to my heart opened and I couldn't stop the quaver in my voice. "More than I ever thought possible. I love him so much and I try not to worry about him." I didn't cry, but felt like it. "You don't know how much I appreciate all you're doing for me. I love my job and everything about it. It is so new and exciting that I don't have much time to think and worry, but late at night when I'm alone it's hard not to let the loneliness get the better of me."

Dawson reached over and squeezed my hand. "If there's anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask. I think of you as my daughter, and indeed, you'll soon be part of my personal family as well as my business family."

My eyes shot up at that statement. I just had to ask, "Does that mean wedding bells are in your near future?"

Dawson almost blushed as a mischievous grin spread across his face. "Tonight, there will be several unexpected announcements. While the main reason for this party is to unveil Rosa's and her daughter-in-law's participation in the _Babe!_ campaign, it's not the only surprise news that we'll be sharing. Rosa and I plan to tell her family we're dating. I expect that will shock everyone, but the next piece of news will deliver the knock-out punch. That's all I'll say for now. Except that I don't expect Rosa's son to take any of this very well."

"From what I know of Ricardo, I would have to agree with you. He does not like surprises and he hates not being in control. I'm going to enjoy tonight almost as much as Rosa," I smirked.

"Rosa has told me a little about her son," he said. "Despite being born in this country, Ricardo seems very Old World and set in his ways. I think he'll be especially upset to find out I've been seeing his mother without his knowledge or blessing. He may feel I am usurping his role as protector and caretaker of his mother. He may also feel I'm 'replacing' his father, to some extent."

I only hoped Ricardo was on his best behavior tonight, but my 'spidey sense' told me something was up. Probably all hell would break loose after Ricardo saw the posters. I attacked my food with my fork, letting my anger at Papa's chauvinistic attitude get the best of me, and grumbled, "Rosa is very capable of taking care of herself. Ricardo needs to get over himself." Dawson merely grinned at me as we turned the conversation to business and the time passed quickly and pleasantly.

It wasn't long before the waiters were clearing not only our dinner dishes from the table, but also those from the Mañosos'. The maitre d' guided two waiters carrying large silver ice buckets to the party table. The buckets were placed on wrought iron stands at each end of the table and the waiters lifted out large magnums and proceeded to open them with a flourish. They then filled each person's glass with the clear sparkling liquid. _Champagne!_ Rosa thought of everything. Looking supremely proud of herself, Rosa stood up and the level of noise from that side of the room dropped to nil. She didn't even have to tap on her champagne glass to get her family's attention.

The maitre d' came over to our table with our own ice bucket and magnum of champagne. Dawson looked up at the man, "Pardon me, but we didn't order this."

The maitre d' smiled and replied, "It is courtesy of Señora Mañoso." He turned and nodded toward Rosa. "She informed me there will be a celebration in a few moments that you simply must toast with champagne. May I fill your glasses?"

Dawson grinned and nodded. "Yes, please, by all means." The man filled my glass first and then Dawson's, then quietly withdrew.

Rosa waited until Alex, whom she had summoned from the kitchen, had a glass of champagne in his hand, too. He stood quietly behind his wife's chair. Then Rosa began her little speech as her family stared at her, all with puzzled faces – except, of course, for Teresa who sported a knowing grin. Rosa's speech was in Spanish and Dawson translated her words for me.

"My dear family," Rosa spoke with quiet authority. "I thank you for sharing this special night with me. I know you must all be wondering why I asked you to join me tonight. It is a very happy occasion, I assure you. I know you think of me as your Abuelita, your quiet little Old World relative who lives in her small sheltered bubble. Well, I hope tonight shatters that old outdated image you have of me. Tonight signifies a brave _new_ world for me, in more ways than one. Some time ago, I took my first step of independence and joined the ranks of the working class. I have even earned my first paycheck."

She was beaming as she held up the check she'd received from Books/Plum Designs for her modeling venture. A loud murmur broke out among her family, Ricardo's voice being the loudest. She shushed them all, and placing her hand firmly on her agitated son's shoulder, continued.

"I did not do this alone. My beautiful daughter-in-law, Teresa, happily joined me in this endeavor." Again, the voices swelled to a small din, though Ricardo uttered not one peep. He just sat there looking stunned. Teresa picked up her champagne glass and joined Rosa at the head of the table, next to one of the covered easels.

"You must be terribly curious as to what kind of job an old woman like myself who has never worked a day in her life, could possibly be doing. To be truthful, I am still in shock that I possess the good fortune to have this wonderful opportunity. My new job is… _this_…"

And with that, both Rosa and Teresa flipped back the cloths that hid their large posters of the magazine ads. The posters were high quality, full color photographs of the women with the words '_Are you a_ _Babe_?' scrolled across the top and '_Babe!'_ and 'Books/Plum Designs' across the bottom. Rosa's picture was elegant and classy, perfect for her stately image. Teresa's picture, on the other hand, was seductive and alluring, showing considerable cleavage and a sultry 'come hither' look in her eyes.

A round of gasps and vocalizations of _'Oh my!'_ and _'Omigod'_ and _'Abuela?'_ and _'Mama?' _filled the air. There was also the sound of choking and gurgling coming from none other than a red-faced Ricardo. Rosa and Teresa then held up copies of today's release of Vogue and Cosmopolitan and flipped to the pages displaying their photos.

Teresa's sister immediately jumped up and hugged Teresa and Rosa and then grabbed both magazines out of their hands, giggling and smiling as she passed the publications to Celia and Teresa's three other daughters. I could hear exclamations of _'Ooh!'_ and _'Ahh!' _as the magazines made their way around the table. The questions started immediately. Even the men gave appreciative smiles and comments when they saw the ads. That is, except, of course, for Ricardo.

When he finally got himself under control, Ricardo leapt from his chair and rushed to Teresa's poster, flipping the black cloth back over it. It was obvious he forgot they were in public, in his own restaurant. Or maybe because it was his restaurant, he felt comfortable blowing up in front of everyone.

He began loudly sputtering, "What is the _meaning_ of this, my wife? This photograph of you is… is… _shameful_. You…you… are showing nearly all of your… your…" An inarticulate gurgle escaped his lips. "_How could you?_ No one should see you like that except your husband. In this photograph, you are so provocative, so sexy… _so not you_!"

Another round of gasps sounded as his four daughters and even their husbands reacted to Ricardo's ill-chosen words. I thought Teresa was going to slap him then and there, but she controlled her temper admirably. Her retort put him in his place, though.

"WELL, _my husband_… if you choose to maintain that attitude, you will certainly never see me like _this_ again," she replied tartly, pointing to her picture as she uncovered it again and then turned her back to him.

He just couldn't stop. "But this is unseemly. Men all over the country will see you looking so… _so sexual, so wanton…like a… seductive temptress… like a…_," he stammered, unable to complete the sentence.

Before Ricardo could finish or anyone else could comment further, Rosa said in her most authoritative voice, "¡Cállate!" [Spanish for '_Shut up!_' and pronounced '_**kai**__-ya-tay_']. She waved everyone down and sternly pushed her angry son toward his chair. He was still blustering and spewing nearly inarticulate comments.

"Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, sit down and _shut your mouth_. You will not spoil this moment of joy for your wife or for me." She stared him down until he reluctantly complied. I guess her stern look was the Cuban version of the Burg death glare and it was just as effective.

Then she continued her speech, sounding triumphant and proud. "Yes, I am a _Babe!_ model, as is Teresa. Our pictures will be featured in several of the most well known fashion magazines. This is exciting, _yes_? And deserving of a celebratory toast."

She raised her glass and Teresa followed her example. The rest of the family, with guarded looks at Ricardo, lifted their champagne glasses toward their matriarch and mother. Ricardo, who had become nearly apoplectic as he stared from the posters to his beaming wife and mother, refused to participate. He sat still as a statue, his arms crossed over his chest and an angry yet bewildered look on his face.

After a sip of the bubbly, Rosa turned our way and motioned Dawson and me over. She turned to her family and gushed, "And, tonight is the perfect night to thank those responsible for this great opportunity that has come our way." As Dawson and I neared the group with champagne glasses in hand, Rosa met us and slipped an arm through each of ours and led us to the table.

The horrified looks on Ricardo, Alex and Mateo as they saw me walking toward them, with Rosa's arm linked with mine, were priceless. The only regret I had now was that Dawson couldn't translate everything for me. He tried for awhile, but as events progressed things got a little hectic.

"This is Señor Dawson Books and Señorita Stephanie Plum, owner and designer, respectively, of Books/Plum Designs, who make the new fabulous line of high quality 'unmentionables'… but tonight, we will name them, yes? It is the new _Babe!_ lingerie line. And, Teresa and I proudly call ourselves _Babes!_" There was some chuckling at that last statement, especially hearing it come from their stately grandmother's mouth.

Rosa raised her glass again and gave another toast. "In grateful thanks to Señor Books and Señorita Plum, for their willingness to take a chance on two inexperienced women and make us shining stars as their lingerie spokeswomen." She sipped and the rest of us joined her, but many family members had eyes wide with questions.

Rosa looked coquettishly at Dawson and said, "I saw their 'Models Wanted' ad in the local newspaper and convinced Teresa to join me to interview. I guess they saw something in us and offered us the job. Then their hair and make up people turned us into what you see in these beautiful posters. It is because of them that we look so… how shall I say this?… _Fabuloso!_" She blushed prettily. Taking another sip of champagne, she let a throaty giggle escape her lips as she glanced up at Dawson through lowered lashes. She reminded me of a young schoolgirl flirting with a boy she was sweet on.

I looked over at Carlos' mother and she met my gaze evenly, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth up, so like her son. As we sipped champagne, we studied each other. Teresa nodded ever so slightly at me. She knew the truth about Carlos and me and his desire to keep our relationship a secret. I returned her acknowledgement with a smile and nod of my own. Teresa tilted her glass toward mine and we clinked them together in a silent pledge to honor Carlos' wish. I liked her immensely; she was a mother who respected her children's choices, so unlike my mother.

In a rush, the women of the family left their seats and eagerly gathered around us, shooting questions at all four of us at once. Rosa introduced Dawson and me to the women and then their husbands.

Ricardo, Alex and Mateo, stilled stunned by Rosa's unexpected announcement, now were doubly shocked by my presence. They looked like their minds were going a mile a minute trying to figure out the odds of Rosa and Teresa 'stumbling' upon Carlos' fiancée. They hung back with expressions of dread and doom on their faces. I'm sure they expected the full truth to come out at any minute and once the women in the family realized the men's deceitful part in the lies, then all hell would break loose. Little did they know what was really coming next.

Again, Rosa took charge of the chaotic situation. "My family, I will answer all of your questions in due time, but this loud milling about in the dining room of _Rosa's_ is unseemly. Please, let us all take our seats and enjoy a bit of dessert, as well as an aperitif. Señor Books, Señorita Plum, you will join us, please?"

Rosa motioned to the maitre d', who immediately added two more chairs to the large table, one on either side of Rosa, bumping Ricardo and Teresa down one spot. Alex gave his words of congratulations to his mother and grandmother and politely excused himself from the table. He kissed both their cheeks and disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to arrange for our dessert. Waiters brought out silverware, plates and demitasse glasses, as well as cups and saucers.

Smiling servers descended upon us with offers of amaretto or coffee liqueurs, and espresso or cappuccino. When the dessert cart rolled toward the table, I let out a low moan. Every imaginable kind of dessert was loaded on that cart. I was in sugar heaven. Rosa glanced over at me and smiled. Whispering something to one of the waiters, Rosa gave me a barely perceptible nod and chuckled. The waiter went down our side of the table offering a choice of desserts to each person. When he got to me, he pulled four of the most decadent desserts off the cart and placed them in front of me. I nearly cried with joy. I reached over and squeezed Rosa's hand and we smiled at each other. Between Carlos' gift of biweekly desserts and now with Rosa on my side, I would never fear missing my mother's cooking again.

After everyone had had time to enjoy their sweets and ask their most pressing questions, Rosa instructed the waiters to fill everyone's champagne glasses one last time and that Alex be summoned to the table again. All this time, Ricardo sat silently fuming in his chair, shooting furious looks at both Rosa and Teresa. They both ignored him.

Rosa stood once more, this time with Dawson at her side. It took just a minute for everyone to quiet down and look her way.

"There is another announcement I wish to make tonight. This is a more personal one." She quietly cleared her throat and continued, "When I found myself at Dawson Books' offices, I was quite out of my element and nearly left the building before my appointment. But Señor Books… Dawson… made me feel right at home. He translated all the photographer's instructions for me and helped me through the confusing, though exciting, photo shoot. When he invited me to lunch afterward, I graciously accepted." Her words caused some of her family to give out a light gasp, some fidgeted in their chairs, while others frowned in puzzlement.

Rosa slipped her hand in Dawson's and gave him an adoring look. "What I wish to tell you, my family, is that Dawson and I have been seeing each other ever since. We are, how you say? Yes…dating!"

Another volley of gasps and exclamations went around the table.

Dawson stepped in and took over before things got out of hand. Continuing in Spanish, he said, "I know this must seem sudden to all of you. Please know that my intentions are honorable toward this lovely lady. In fact…" Dawson paused and looked adoringly at the woman by his side, "I have asked her to marry me and she has accepted." _More gasps._ "It will be a short engagement. At our age, we do not want to waste any time in starting our new life together. You are all invited to our wedding, which will take place at my… pardon me, Rosa… _our home_ this Valentine's Day."

_Dead silence!_ I think most of the family stopped breathing for a moment. Ricardo was next to me and I could feel his body tremble. I knew it wasn't with fear, so it must be with anger. I placed my hand over his and squeezed. Not a gentle squeeze of reassurance, but a hard squeeze with nails digging in, _a squeeze of warning_. I looked at him and he was breathing heavily, his nostrils were flaring and then his mouth started opening and closing. I squeezed even harder and nearly drew blood with my fingernails. He finally looked me in the eye. No one was paying attention to us, they were focused on Rosa and Dawson. Even Teresa was surprised by this last announcement.

When I was pretty sure Ricardo wouldn't suddenly explode, I picked up my champagne glass and stood to make a toast. I was sure no one else in the family had enough wits about them to initiate the expected ritual.

"Let me be the first to offer my congratulations to the happy couple." I turned to Rosa and Dawson. "Dawson, if you would translate this for Rosa, please?" Before I started, I tried to catch the eye of each person sitting around the table. I wanted this to be a special moment for my two friends, without any upsetting interruptions.

"In our lifetimes, we are gifted a small number of truly 'landmark moments.' They start small enough, say, riding a two-wheeler bicycle or throwing your graduation cap high into the air. They grow in power and significance; as some of you have experienced the moment when a doctor told you, 'it's a girl,' or, 'it's a boy,' and then handed you that perfect little life that you created. And it must be a perfect moment when you look into the eyes of the most loving, caring, giving individual that you've ever known and realize you've found _true love_. A moment like this and the commitment which follows should be celebrated to its fullest. And so, I contend to all present here tonight that it is _our duty_ to ensure that this moment in the lives of Rosa and Dawson does not pass unrecognized. And in celebrating their happiness we might just make this one of the landmark moments of our own lives, too. It is with great pleasure that I say congratulations to Rosa and Dawson... may you share many warm days and many warm nights... _Everybody, please raise your glass... here's to Rosa and Dawson..." _I raised my glass and turned to the beaming couple.

A stunned audience mechanically stood, picked up their glasses and raised them in the obligatory toast. After the first sip, Maria squealed in excitement and hugged her grandmother. That broke the ice and, finally, the family started to thaw a bit, offering their congratulations to the newly engaged couple. All except Ricardo. He sat stonily, staring first at Dawson and then at Rosa. As the family settled back in their chairs, Ricardo stood, hands spread flat out on the table in front of him. I knew it would not be good.

His voice was loud and strident. "I will NOT sit still any longer. I will NOT remain quiet while this travesty is taking place in my family, at my restaurant. I forbid this. _I forbid all of it_." His face was red as he turned to glare at each member of his family. "I forbid this… _Babe!_ thing, I forbid the 'dating' and, _most certainly_, I forbid the marriage of my mother to this stranger." He straightened his back and threw up his hands.

"Mama, what would Papa say about all of this? How dare you do this to his memory? I demand you stop all this nonsense. First, I insist that you… and my wife…" he pointed a shaking arm toward the posters, "stop the charade of posing as lingerie models in trashy magazines. And then, Mama, I insist you cease and desist all contact with this ill-mannered stranger and end this farce of a… a… _I cannot even say it_… a romance!"

Ricardo puffed himself up and glared at Dawson. "_And you_… you take advantage of my unsuspecting, naïve mother. You exploit her for your company, for profit, and you seduce her with talk of fame and fortune, and love? And this 'dating'? _What is this?_ I cannot believe my mother would ever 'date' another man without some undue influence." Ricardo turned to Teresa for a moment. "Why was I never told of my mother seeing anyone?"

He didn't wait for an answer; he turned back to the older couple standing in front of him and threw out his arm, pointing his finger at Dawson. "Then, _you… you _have the audacity to come here and announce _your engagement_? You have never introduced yourself to me. I am the head of this family. You never came to me and laid out your intentions regarding my mother. You just show up and make these claims and expect me to roll over and hand my mother to you. You are a cad of the worst sort. I demand you leave my restaurant and my mother immediately. And never contact her again."

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8 Chapter 92

**CHAPTER 92**

_Stephanie's POV_

Such an ultimatum! Ricardo was sealing his fate and it wasn't good. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I couldn't.

Once again, Ricardo let his misplaced sense of right and wrong get the better of him. He just couldn't stop trying to control his family, thinking he knew best. More and more, I could see my mother in him and I felt a deep and renewed connection to my Carlos. Oh, how I wished he were here, for the millionth time!

If I thought Ricardo was upset, it was nothing compared to Rosa. She was literally shaking with anger. Facing her son, she managed to spit out, "_YOU FORBID?" _She took a deep breath. "You have gone too far this time, Ricardo. I will not stand here and let you talk that way to the man I love." She laid her hand on Dawson's arm in a gesture of love and reassurance and it seemed to calm her a little.

She looked back at Ricardo and, with a deep sigh, tried one last time to explain her actions, to somehow reach her son. Baring her soul, she confided, "I have lived the life everyone else demanded of me for far too long. It has been a lonely life, with so many dreams unfulfilled. I deserve my happiness and Dawson gives me that and so much more. For the first time, I am in love… deeply, passionately in love."

Ricardo frowned and blew out a large puff of breath in disgust.

Rosa stiffened noticeably. In a low voice, almost to herself, she uttered, "Nothing reaches you. You leave me no choice."

Stepping up so close to Ricardo their toes touched, she fixed her eyes, nearly sparking with fire, on her son's.

I was amazed how quiet she kept her voice. I would be yelling my fool head off and waving my arms about, just to keep myself from slapping his self-righteous face. Even though I couldn't understand her words, she spoke so slowly and so clipped, I could tell her words were uttered with great antipathy and finality.

"_Do not… bother… to worry about me… anymore_." She raised her index finger to his face to emphasize her next words. "Hear me… and hear me well. _I am no longer… your responsibility_."

Rosa dropped her hand and gave her head a little shake. "In truth, I have _never_ been your responsibility. One day, I hope you see the error of your ways, not just for your family's sake, but for yours as well."

She took a step back… toward Dawson, and spoke her final words. "I will remove myself from your home… and your life. Goodbye, Ricardo."

Dawson placed his arm around Rosa's shoulders and from that moment on, her attention was focused solely on the man at her side.

Ricardo's jaw tightened and the stunned expression on his face gave away his thoughts as he listened to his mother renounce his demands and renounce his control over her. His chest was still heaving from the exertion of his earlier outburst, but he remained mute, too stunned to issue more orders.

Dawson rubbed Rosa's upper arm a few times and she calmed down. He faced Ricardo and looked him directly in the eyes.

In a calm but firm voice, he said, "Your mother had her reasons for not wanting to tell her family that she and I were seeing each other. And now, witnessing your reaction to our relationship, I can better understand her reasons. I would never talk so disrespectfully to a member of my family and I will not allow _anyone_, from this moment on, to speak so rudely to my fiancée ever again, _not even her son_. We didn't come here tonight for your blessing, though we would have preferred to receive it. Our wedding is still on," Dawson turned to the speechless Mañoso family, "and the rest of you are still invited, as long as Rosa desires it." He lifted Rosa's hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, staring deeply into her eyes.

Straightening himself, Dawson swept his arm toward the two posters. "As for these photographs, it is my professional opinion, as well as my personal one, that both these photos are in excellent taste and they not only do my company proud, but they do the women proud as well. Both women are beautiful _ladies_ in the truest sense of that word, and I made sure that none of the ads were unseemly or in poor taste. While it is true they are promoting a line of lingerie, none of the women in these ads are wearing the undergarments themselves, at least not that anyone can see. I have only the utmost pride that these ads, featuring two such lovely and elegant ladies, are representing my company."

Being the consummate gentleman, Dawson said to the rest of the family, "I am glad to finally have had the opportunity to meet all of you. I hope we have many more times to get to know each other before the wedding." He looked at Rosa. "I love this woman with all my heart. Please know I will do anything and everything within my power to make her happy. Good night to you all."

Ricardo took a deep breath and clenched his jaw. I could almost see daggers shooting from his eyes as he moved toward Dawson. I quickly stepped in front of him and smiled at Dawson and Rosa.

Dawson spoke quietly to me, "Stephanie, Rosa and I are leaving now. Please, let us escort you to your car."

I shook my head. "Thank you, Dawson. I appreciate the offer, but I would like to stay just a while longer. I'll be fine."

I hugged both of them and turned to glare at Ricardo, silently willing him to swallow his angry words. The two lovebirds walked hand in hand out of the restaurant that bore Rosa's name, leaving a stunned family in their wake.

Teresa whispered quietly to her sister and then spoke, in English, to the rest of the family, deliberately ignoring Ricardo. "I appreciate all your good wishes, my family. I am going home with Carmen because I will not live under the same roof with a man who disrespects me, disrespects his own mother, and indeed, disrespects so many other members of his family." With that, she turned and walked arm in arm with her sister out the front door, leaving her husband standing there with his mouth hanging open.

Celia walked over to her father and confronted him with some anger, but mainly sadness in her voice. "How _could_ you, Papa? Your damn need to control and your bad temper have ruined such a beautiful evening. Is it so terrible that Mama and Abuela stretch their wings for once in their lives? That they do something just for themselves? They both have devoted their entire lives to this family, giving up all their own dreams, so that ours may come true. Can't you let them have this small measure of happiness? And maybe even be glad for them?" She leaned against her father and kissed his cheek.

She then turned to me and said, "I'm truly sorry you had to witness that unhappy scene. Please know that most of my family are thrilled at our mother's and grandmother's participation in your company's ad campaign. I could see joy in their faces tonight, such as I haven't seen in quite a while. They deserve a little happiness. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Plum. I hope we can meet again under more pleasant circumstances."

I smiled in return and said, "It's Stephanie, please, and thank you, Celia. Despite how it ended, I enjoyed meeting you and your sisters and, I too, hope our next meeting is much more pleasant. Your mother and grandmother are a joy to work with and we hope to have a long association with them. Maybe you and your sisters would like to join them and become _Babe!_ spokeswomen, too?"

Celia grinned broadly and we shook hands. One by one, each daughter shook my hand, saying nice things to me and then left with her husband. Alex sent his wife home with Celia and her spouse.

That left Ricardo, Alex, Mateo and his wife Lucia, and myself. Ricardo stood with his back to all of us, staring at the door that each member of his family had used to walk away from him. It was quite late by this time and there were only a few patrons left in the restaurant. The busboys were busy clearing and wiping down the tables.

I picked up my champagne glass and held it high in front of me. "Well…," I started and at the sound of my voice, Ricardo faced the last handful of us. I continued, "Here's to my enlightening introduction to the prestigious Mañoso family. If I ever wondered why Carlos did not want me to meet his family before he left overseas, tonight would have answered all my questions. However, I think he was wrong in believing it was the women in his family who would give me grief. It is patently the men who are the ones to watch out for and one man in particular to avoid altogether." I looked directly at Ricardo with that last statement and then downed the remains of the bubbly. I heard a stifled snort from Lucia.

Lucia, I was learning, was a very honest and outspoken woman. She spoke directly to Ricardo, "I warned you not to keep secrets or it would blow up in your face. It looks like your family has learned well from you, Tío Ricardo. Both your mother and your wife kept several secrets from you and seemed delighted to surprise you with them tonight. Your response, though, left a lot to be desired." She shook her head.

Continuing, Lucia told him, "I agree with Tía Teresa, you show your family no respect. They are intelligent, thoughtful adults who are perfectly capable of making their own decisions regarding their lives. I suggest you drag yourself out of the Dark Ages and not only let your family _make_ their own decisions, but you actually consider _supporting_ the choices they make. That's what someone does who loves the people around them."

She put her arm through her husband's and said, "Come on, Mat. It's time we head home. I want to kiss our children goodnight and tell them we will help them live their dreams, whatever they may be." Mateo leaned over and kissed my cheek before heading toward the door with his wife.

He stopped halfway to answer his ringing phone. I wasn't eavesdropping, but he was only a few feet away and I heard him say, "_Geez_, what a mess! Thanks, Javier. Yes, I understand and concur. I'll make sure she gets home safely." He excused himself from Lucia and returned to me.

"Stephanie, it seems there is a slight problem with your car. Don't worry, though. Some friends, whom I trust implicitly, will take care of everything for you, but Lucia and I will need to drive you home tonight. I assure you, your car will be delivered to your home in perfect working order first thing tomorrow morning."

"_What?"_ I asked, confused by his vague pronouncement. "Mateo, we just had a great example of what happens when you don't reveal the truth. Tell me, what's going on?"

It was obvious he was reluctant to explain himself, but he finally spoke. "In a word…Morelli!" At that revelation, Ricardo and Alex came over and also demanded to know what was going on.

Speaking to me, but loud enough for the others to hear, Mateo said, "It seems Joseph Morelli tried to 'arrange' for your car to break down on your way home tonight. I don't know what he intended to do with you when he caught up, but I'm sure it wouldn't have been pleasant. Stephanie, you need to know that he has been constantly stalking you and has even broken into your home. Tonight, he went a step too far and you could have been injured. My… ah… associates will take care of Morelli, too, so you won't have to worry about him ever again."

His words sent a chill through me. "That sounds ominous. What does that mean, Mateo?"

"All I can say is that Carlos was worried that he wouldn't be here to support you or take care of you, so he asked several good friends, including myself, to watch over you in his absence. I'm sure he was thinking more of emotional support or help with professional contacts, that kind of thing. But Morelli has upped the ante. You told me that Morelli was showing up everywhere you went in the Burg and that put me on high alert. After Morelli had that altercation with Tío Ricardo on your porch, he followed Ricardo back to the restaurant. We decided to keep a closer eye on him after that."

Ricardo spoke up, his voice angry and sharp, "That cowardly no-good scoundrel deserves everything he gets from Carlos' friends. Let me know when and where and I will help them beat some sense and respect into that mangy cur."

We all turned and stared at him. Lucia blurted out, "You are _not the one_ to teach anyone about respect." Ricardo looked aghast at her and then dropped his eyes.

Mateo continued, "As I said, a few days ago someone witnessed Morelli breaking into your townhouse and tonight, he tampered with your car. Friends of Carlos' will confront that sorry excuse for a man and convince him to leave you alone. If Morelli refuses, the convincing may get forceful."

"You mean, they will beat him up, or worse, if he refuses to leave me alone?" I must have shown a little fear and worry on my face, because Mateo spoke hurriedly to reassure me.

"Something like that, but they will take it only as far as needed to get him to agree to back off." Mateo put his hand on my shoulder. "Stephanie, he's now messing with your car. That's dangerous stuff. Because he's a police officer, we have to proceed carefully. It can't be just his word against ours. We will tape any dealings we have with him and he will always have the choice to respond rationally and with honor. If he chooses to be an asshole… pardon my language… the resulting action will be on his own head."

I nodded my understanding. There was more I had wished to say to Ricardo, but this news about Joe had me reeling.

Dawson and I had brought our own copies of Vogue and Cosmo tonight. I took them from my handbag and thrust them at Ricardo. "Please, look at your mother's and wife's ads again. Look at them through _their_ eyes. Consider how they must feel about what they've accomplished. And then think about your reaction tonight and your harsh, unthinking words to them. _Try… please try_, Ricardo, to put yourself in their shoes, just once."

If Papa couldn't change his ways enough to appease the rest of his family for his disgraceful behavior tonight, he would never be able to make things right between he and Carlos.

With a heavy heart, I walked back to Mateo and my own problems. I hadn't wanted to believe Joe would actually hurt me, but now I wasn't so sure. I left the restaurant with Mateo and Lucia. My car was still in _Rosa's_ parking lot, but there was no sign of Joe or anyone else. Tonight had been a disappointing evening on many counts. I missed Carlos more than ever.

_Ricardo's POV_

I turned to Alejandro and saw the troubled look in his face. "Do not worry, my son. I know these friends of your brother and they will handle this obnoxious man who is bothering Estefania."

Alejandro shook his head and said, "I have no doubt about that. It is the other events of this evening that have me concerned. Based on our talk earlier this week I would have hoped you would be more aware of how your words affect our family. Yet tonight, you hurt both Mama and Abuela Rosa terribly. Your actions have alienated the two women who love you most." Alejandro's face reflected his disappointment in me. It seemed that look was all I saw tonight on my family's faces when they gazed at me.

He continued, "I feel our family is falling apart and I lay the blame squarely on your shoulders, Papa." I inhaled sharply at hearing his accusations, and anger started to build within me, but I steeled myself to hear the rest of my son's words.

Alejandro's jaw clenched as he spoke. "I'm ashamed of the way you behaved tonight. Abuela Rosa has been widowed for many years now and deserves a little happiness, even if it is with a man we are not familiar with. Dawson Books seems a very nice and respectable person and a successful businessman. Stephanie approves of him. And as for Mama, she would do nothing to embarrass or put the family in a bad light. Her participation in Stephanie's lingerie line is a good thing. All her children have grown up and left the house. She deserves to have something that brings her personal satisfaction outside the home. Surely, it wouldn't kill you to let her 'do her own thing' every now and then? And do you realize the scene you made in _our_ restaurant tonight? Our patrons will be buzzing about this for months to come. If anyone has blemished our family name, it is you, Papa." Alejandro threw up his hands in exasperation before returning to the kitchen.

My legs felt like rubber and I sat down heavily in the nearest chair. The evening's events had somehow gone terribly wrong. I was not expecting such explosive news. Who would ever expect my quiet, retiring mother to pose for an _underwear company_? Indeed! And my wife… to flaunt her body like that.

I was right in getting angry, wasn't I? It is my duty as the man of the family to guide those under my care and set matters right when they act so irresponsibly. Maybe I could have used a bit more tact, but they shouldn't have surprised me like that. As the head of this family I should know what is happening with each member of my family. They should have come to me and asked my permission and my advice. Instead, they went behind my back and kept secrets from me. Who wouldn't react with anger at that? Didn't they show _me_ a lack of respect for my authority?

I would have thought Alejandro would understand. After all, he is the head of his family. And Celia and Lucia. Well, I expect such behavior from Lucia. She is, after all, one of those _feminists_. But Celia? My own daughter daring to chastise me! (_big sigh_)

Even Estefania is upset with me. She has given me good advice in the past. Didn't her advice about Alejandro work out well?

Did I really over react? I simply don't know the answer to my own question. I'm so tired, I just want to go home and crawl into bed. _Home!_ _Damn_, no one will be there. My home has never been empty before. Teresa has always been there waiting for me. Maybe she changed her mind? Maybe she had her sister drop her off at the house after all. I could only hope so after tonight's fiasco.

So many things have not gone well for me lately. I must be the unluckiest man in the whole wide world!

. . .

What has my life become? I sit here in my car, in my driveway, in front of my own house, unable to go inside. The place is completely dark, like my mood. The porch light is not on and there is no welcoming light in the window. I know only silence awaits me; a harsh, judging, recriminatory silence. I still can not believe my family has deserted me in such a way.

I never intended for any of this to happen. I was only trying to protect my family. My mother has known nothing of the world I have shielded her from since my father passed away. And now… she has slipped away from me and I was not even aware when it happened. I have failed her and failed my father. She is now in the clutches of a stranger. Someone I know nothing about. Is he a good man? An honorable man? I do not know.

Will my actions tonight… my over-reactions (?)… ensure that my Mama never speaks to me again?

And Teresa! My dear sweet, loving wife. She patiently put up with me for 38 years. She bore me six beautiful children. She never complained about the long hours I was away from her and the children, trying to earn a living.

_No_, my 'living' was ensured at _Rosa's_. I have been selfish. The restaurant would have been a success even without all the long hours I insisted on putting in. I did it because it pleased me. The one day a week the restaurant was closed, I selfishly spent there honing my skills instead of being with my wife and my family.

"Admit it, you… you self-important bastard," I told myself, "those Monday nights alone in the restaurant you spent reveling in your own success, congratulating yourself on _your_ accomplishments. You never acknowledged the efforts of your very own son in making _Rosa's_ a success. You told yourself it was all because of _your_ talent, _your_ hard work." I dropped my head into my hands and sighed.

_**Pride!**_ _The worst of all sins._

I have committed the sin of hubris over and over again for decades. My acts of contrition, and indeed, of penance, for this long-standing sin will undoubtedly be severe. I deserve any penance my priest asks of me. Tomorrow, I will visit Father Brady and confess my sins and accept his Sacrament of Reconciliation.

I treated my wife shamefully tonight. I let my anger get the best of me. I came so close to calling her a terrible thing… not only a seductress…a lustful teaser of men, but a _wanton whore_. THAT would have been truly unforgivable.

Turning on the car's overhead light, I picked up the magazines Estefania made me take. Flipping the pages, I saw many ads featuring attractive women and also, some 'over-exposed' women dressed in their unmentionables, which I found to be much too revealing for my tastes. When I saw Mama's picture again, I only saw how beautiful she looked. Señor Books' words came back to me. The ad was admittedly in good taste. Mama looked like a fashion plate, so elegant and regal, like the queen she was.

Then I picked up the magazine my Teresa's picture was in. I was aghast, so many of those ads were definitely over the top in showing women's bodies in a blatantly sexual way. They were overkill, in my opinion. When I turned to my wife's picture, my heart stopped for a beat and I felt a stirring in my loins. She was truly beautiful and sexy, but the picture, I had to admit, was tasteful, too. She was fully covered, but so much more attractive than the women who displayed much more skin.

I hadn't looked, I mean _really looked_, at my wife in much too long a time. My love for her came to the forefront all over again. I missed her terribly. She had made me sleep in the spare bedroom ever since I had confessed my part in hiding Carlos' novia from her.

I missed not only the physical side of my marriage, though that was beginning to wear on me, but I missed having my Teresa next to me, smelling her fragrance and most of all, having her smile at me. I would do whatever it took to get back in her good graces again. I have been so selfish in so many ways, it is no wonder I ended up alone tonight.

My wanting to join Carlos' Army comrades tonight to teach that filthy cop a lesson was, again, a selfish thing. I thought maybe if I could protect his beloved, maybe Carlos would forgive me. Forgive how I have treated him, how I tried to belittle him and force him through guilt to do my bidding… as my father did to me.

Oh, dear Lord! What have I done? Who have I become?

I once dreamed of so much more for my life. I hated my father for the way he treated me. I hated that I was willing to give up what made me happy in an attempt to earn his love. My eldest, my Alejandro, followed in my footsteps, not because he wanted to become a chef, but because he loved me and did not want to disappoint me. He just wanted to be a good, obedient son and earn my praise and respect, just like I did with my father. Did I give him that? _No_… only when doing so would shame my other son, my rebellious Carlos, into meekly following my wishes. _Damn my foolish pride!_

And Carlos, he could never be a chef. He needs to be doing bigger things, making a difference for his country and saving lives, not cooking pollo con arroz for little old ladies.

_Please, God_… please know that I did not know I was hurting him or Alejandro. I did not know my actions were so terribly misguided. I can see now that I was doing to them exactly what my father did to me. I am so ashamed! Please forgive me!

_Teresa's POV_

I couldn't believe I was sitting in my sister's car, headed for her home instead of my own. I'd never spent a night away from Ricardo since the day we were married.

Tonight was such an awful night! I knew Ricardo would not be thrilled with my participation in Rosa's _Babe!_ escapade, but I never expected his outright anger. He said such terrible things to me. I don't think I can ever forgive him. He practically called me a… puta! [_whore_].

I have stood by and watched him handle our two sons with a heavy hand all their lives. He has bullied them and coerced them since they were children. Alejandro did his best to please his father, but even his obedience blew up in his face. And Carlito, my little rebel. He just couldn't stand still and let his father run roughshod over him, even if it cost him his father's love. I even let Ricardo throw Carlos out of our home when he was young. That nearly broke my heart to let him go. The only saving grace was that my sister agreed to take Carlos in.

I have not given my husband one moment of trouble. I have always tried to be a good wife. For just a few moments, I allowed myself to be wicked and pose for that photo shoot. It was the most excitement I have had in years and it did wonders for my self-esteem.

I had a daydream about Ricardo's reaction. First, he would bluster about for a bit and then he would look at my picture a second time. That devilish look that made me fall in love with him would twinkle in his eyes. He would take me in his arms and whisper in my ear, "You look so beautiful, Querida! I want you! Let's hurry home so you can model the _Babe!_ lingerie I bought for you. Well, to be truthful, I bought it so that I could enjoy seeing it on you, and then tearing it off. I have never seen you look more lovely or…sexy, mi amante." [_my lover_]

But that isn't even close to what happened.

I really thought Ricardo had seen the error of his ways. He had an honest talk with Alejandro this week and they were getting along so much better. He even stopped himself from criticizing Alejandro tonight. I have never seen him hold his tongue like that. And even though I was furious with him last week, he admitted the truth about keeping Carlos' novia a secret from me. But his hurtful words tonight ruined all that. This time, Ricardo went too far.

Rosa has found a wonderful man in that Dawson Books. He obviously loves her very much and he is supportive of her doing things that please her. He stood up for her tonight without being overbearing or rude. He also stood up for me.

And Stephanie! I like her! She has strength of character, and her composure tonight in the face of chaos was admirable. She will make a fine match for Carlos. She gave such a touching tribute to Mama Rosa and her novio. That should have been Ricardo making that toast. Instead, Ricardo stomped all over his mother's heart and tore her happiness into pieces.

Stephanie must think we are a dreadful family. Maybe we have scared her off? That would be a terrible thing, to have Carlos' novia hate us. Carlos would side with her, and I couldn't blame him. I could not bear to lose my son again because of my husband's insensitivity and arrogance.

I do not know what is to become of us. Mama Rosa is now 'living in sin' with her novio, and I have left my husband of 38 years. Ricardo made a fool of himself in front of his family, in his own restaurant. How can we ever make this right?

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9 Chapter 93

**CHAPTER 93**

_**Earlier the same evening of Rosa's Party…**_

It was Javier's turn to tail Joe Morelli Friday evening and, no surprise to Javier, Joe parked himself just down the street from Stephanie's townhouse. Around 8 p.m., Steph got in her car and drove in to the center of Newark. Joe followed her and Javier followed Joe. As Steph pulled into the parking lot of _Rosa's_, an older gentleman met her and they entered the restaurant together.

Joe left and Javier followed him again, this time to a small bar located a few minutes away. He watched from a dark corner in the bar as Morelli drank one beer after another. A little over an hour later, the cop returned to _Rosa's_ parking lot. He sat in his truck for a while, but eventually, when no one else was in sight, Morelli sidled over to Stephanie's new Porsche and scooted himself underneath its carriage.

Javier got as much of Morelli's activities as he could on film. Luckily, Steph had parked near a streetlight. Morelli spent about ten minutes fiddling with Steph's car and then got back in his truck and left the lot only to park a block away. He was obviously waiting for Steph to leave the restaurant. Javier called his three Army buddies and asked them to meet him near _Rosa's_.

When Diego, Miguel and Antonio showed up, they spotted Javier and joined him in the shadows. Javier filled them in and let them watch the video feed. They could only speculate as to what Morelli had done to Steph's car. He could have cut the brakes or the fuel line or something even more sinister. They all knew the time for sitting back and watching was over. Morelli was now a definite threat to Stephanie's safety.

Javier approached Morelli's vehicle, which was parked on a poorly lit side street. He was wired for sound, and Antonio was in the shadows with the camera running. Javier rapped on the window and motioned Joe out.

Morelli, supremely confident and used to having the upper hand as a cop, got out of his truck and, upon seeing a large, muscled Latino, immediately went into offensive mode. Javier maintained his cool, assuming Morelli, as a cop, was armed and wouldn't hesitate to use his gun if he felt threatened.

"_Whaddaya want?_ Don't you like the way I'm parked?" Joe swaggered a bit and flipped the collar of his jacket up around his neck. Javier didn't budge or bat an eye. Joe continued his intimidation banter. "You aren't one of those fags, are you? 'Cause you're barking up the wrong tree, buddy. So, get lost."

"My name is Javier Valdez. Earlier this evening, I witnessed you tampering with a car in the parking lot of _Rosa's_. What did you do to the car?"

Morelli immediately became belligerent and confrontational. "Who the fuck do you think you are? I don't have to explain myself to you. It's none of your damn business."

Again, in a calm voice, Javier asked, "I'm only going to ask you one more time… what did you do to Stephanie Plum's car?"

Morelli took a step back at the mention of Steph's name. "_Who are you?_ How do you know Stephanie? Look, I'm a cop and I'm on official business. _Leave_… before I run you in for interfering in a police investigation."

"For starters, _Officer _Morelli… I know that you work for the Trenton PD and this is Newark. I also know that any situation involving you and Stephanie Plum has nothing to do with official police business. I respectfully advise you to stop following and harassing her."

Joe hesitated for a moment, pondering what Javier had just revealed. This guy knew his name and that he worked in Trenton, not Newark. But Joe wasn't one to back down.

Then the other three men made themselves known as they stepped up behind Javier. Four against one! Joe puffed up and moving aside his jacket, put his hand on his hip near his holster.

"What do you mean…_harassing_ her? I'm her _boyfriend_. We had a little disagreement and we need to talk about it. I'm waiting for her. Now, **back off**…all of you."

"Stephanie Plum is engaged to be married, but not to the likes of you," Javier informed him. "She doesn't want you anywhere near her."

Joe hesitated for a moment and then continued his offense maneuvers. "Seems like you're the ones following her. I'm not about to listen to four thugs who look like loser Army grunts. What's the matter… couldn't make the cut for the Navy?" Both Antonio and Miguel had visible Army insignias tattooed on their forearms.

All four men took a step closer to Morelli at that blatant insult, but they ignored Joe's attempt to deflect the issue at hand. Javier said, still speaking in a calm, but firm voice. "I'll tell you again. Leave her alone. Do not follow her and do not attempt to contact her in any way, shape or form."

Joe barked out a laugh. "I'll do any damn thing I want. You punks don't scare me." Joe leaned closer to the men and held up his hand, index finger pointing directly at Javier. "Get the hell outta my face and stay the fuck outta my business, you neckless goon."

"As long as your business has nothing to do with Stephanie, we'll leave you alone. But you've been harassing her and tonight, you tampered with her car. That makes it our business."

Joe looked directly at Javier, "You must really be dumb." Then he turned to the other three men. "And that makes you _dumber_ and you, _dumbest_. And you, with the backward baseball cap, must be a fucking moron. **I'm a cop!** I can make your life _a living hell_. I can stop you every time you drive down the street. I can get you on jaywalking charges or for loitering or spitting on the sidewalk. I can find out who your family is and make their lives a living hell as well. How would you like me to pick up your dear old mama when she comes out of the grocery store and arrest her for soliciting?"

"Are you threatening us?" Diego asked.

"Oh, so the big gorilla can talk, can he? Yeah, I'm threatening you. You dare to try and tell me to leave my girlfriend alone… you bet I'm gonna threaten you. I'll do more than threaten…" Joe reached back as if going for his gun.

Diego and Miguel swiftly pinned Joe to the side of his truck and disarmed him. They stepped away and unloaded his firearm.

"_That does it._ You just attacked a police officer. I'll have you arrested and thrown in jail for that," Joe bluffed.

Javier countered, "Not after we tell your boss, Chief Juniak, what you've been doing to Ms. Plum."

Morelli just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Juniak… that piece of worthless crap. I have so much dirt on him, he'll never do anything to me. He's too afraid of what I could do to him. You should be afraid as well. I have certain connections. Around here, people disappear, never to be found again. I just need to make one phone call and your sorry asses are toast."

Again, the guys ignored Morelli's ranting. "One last time, will you leave Stephanie Plum alone?"

"Hell no. What is it with you goons? What is she to you? Are you all banging her? First, that old Cuban codger and now four Army rejects. God, she's such a slut."

That did it! The guys couldn't stand there and listen to anymore of Morelli's foul mouth. They each took turns delivering blow after blow. At first, Morelli tried to defend himself, but he was no match for four well-trained and physically fit Special Forces soldiers. They had to hold him up to continue the beat-down. When Morelli lost consciousness, they dumped him in the passenger side of his truck.

Javier called Mateo and told him about Joe messing with Stephanie's car. He advised Mateo to drive her home. He let Mateo know they would 'take care' of Joe and they would also make sure Steph's car was safe and deliver it to her townhouse in the morning.

Diego slid behind the driver's wheel of Joe's truck and drove him to an isolated spot in the countryside between Newark and Trenton, with the other three men following behind in their vehicles.

The guys threw a cold beer in Morelli's face and waited until he was coherent. When showing him the video and playing the tape recordings from earlier in the evening, Joe looked shocked and cursed loudly. They told him the tapes would be turned over to the Trenton PD if he didn't agree to do exactly as they said. They purposely held back the video surveillance of him illegally breaking into Stephanie's townhouse.

They handed him a job application and transfer papers already filled out and just needing his signature. His transfer 'request' was for the state's law enforcement office out of Butte, Montana. It was far enough away from New Jersey to keep Morelli out of Steph's life and they had Army contacts in the area who could – and would – keep tabs on him.

It took another round of fisticuffs to get Joe to sign the papers. They left him there, dry-heaving his guts out by the side of the road. Javier would mail the signed job application to Montana and the transfer request to the Trenton Police Department to make sure the papers got there. The guys all agreed to continue their surveillance on Morelli until he left the state.

Joe had finally spilled the beans about the damage he'd done to Steph's car. It was a fixable thing and Antonio and Miguel went back to Newark to take care of it. Stephanie would wake up Saturday morning and find her car in her driveway, freshly washed and running fine. All-in-all, this was a good night's mission.

_Joe's POV_

I woke up to find myself slumped over in the driver's seat of my truck in the middle of nowhere. The sun was just coming up. I was cold and felt like shit. Looking in my rearview mirror, I saw I had a swollen black eye, cut lip and road rash on my right cheek. God, what happened to me?

Pressing on my torso, I sucked in a deep breath and let out a yell. My ribs were badly bruised, maybe even broken. I tried to remember if I was in a car accident or what. How did I get so battered and sore?

Then I groaned. It all came flooding back to me. I'd been in Newark waiting for Steph to leave the restaurant when four over-sized greasers jumped me. They kept saying something about Stephanie Plum. They accused me of harassing her and told me to leave her alone. Then they beat the shit out of me.

Damn that woman! She'd been a pain in my ass ever since she'd run me over with her father's Buick when I got home from the Navy. It was time she learned a serious lesson. _Don't mess with Joe Morelli!_ But first, I needed a drink.

And I needed to get warm. Starting the engine, I turned the heater on high and searched the truck for something to drink, but all the bottles and cans scattered on the floorboards were empty. My muscles screamed at me when I tried to turn the truck around on the narrow road. Those thugs had done a thorough job on me. I ached everywhere. Finally, I made it out to the highway and headed for home. It was still early and there were very few people on the road.

I made it to my house without incident and considered myself lucky since I could barely see and my head and body ached worse than I ever remembered feeling.

Stumbling up the sidewalk, I made it inside and collapsed on the couch. Around noon, I woke up and lurched down the hall to the bathroom, cursing in pain with every step. My face looked like a kid's paint set exploded on it. I was black and blue and every shade in between. I needed something to take the edge off.

There was plenty of beer in the kitchen, so I grabbed a twelve-pack out of the fridge and a bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard and made my way back to the couch. I didn't remember anything else until Monday morning.

The incessant sound of a phone ringing woke me up. The call was from work, my boss wondering where I was. There was no way I was going into work looking like I did. I pleaded sick, which was the truth, and said I'd be out for a couple of days.

Later that evening, I woke up again, my stomach growling, my throat drier than the Sahara. Plus, I really had to take a piss. I made it to the bathroom and drained the lizard. While washing my hands, I looked in the mirror. God, I still looked like shit and my entire body hurt! My eye was no longer swollen, but it was a rainbow of colors. My cheek looked like raw hamburger. I splashed some water on my face and inhaled sharply. My beard was growing in, but there was no way I was going to shave with my skin so torn up.

My stomach growled again and I made my way to the kitchen. About the only thing left in the fridge was a half-full carton of orange juice. I downed it and then opened a can of chili and dumped it in a bowl. After nuking it, I sat down at the kitchen table and shoveled the first spoonful into my mouth. My mind was finally clearing.

The events of the other night, and indeed the past week, started coming back to me. First, it was Mrs. Plum trying to fix me up with her beautiful but infuriating daughter. When I went to see Steph, she got all up in my face and was a real bitch. She nearly broke my nose. And there was that ridiculous old Cuban asshole that shoved me off Steph's porch. He deserved some serious whupass from me. I'd have to pay him a little visit when I felt better.

I remembered being with Terry later that night, but she had to leave early, so I went to Freddy's. Yeah, that's when I ran into Ms. Goody Two Shoes, _Valerie_ Plum. The only straight girl from high school that I'd never banged. She was three sheets to the wind, so I took her back to my place and fucked her brains out. I'd had better ass, but it was the final conquest of my high school list that counted.

The next day, Tuesday, I think, everything started to go haywire and it was all Stephanie Plum's fault. She barged into my office and accused me of 'seducing' her sister. Hell, that blonde bitch had been begging for it. I just gave her what she wanted; what all bitches wanted. Joseph Morelli didn't need to force any woman to sleep with him.

Then, Steph dropped the bomb. She told me her sister had an active outbreak of herpes. Fuck! I went to get tested at the lab we used for work-related cases. Afterward, I was still worked up and wanted to hit something, get out my aggressions.

I drove over to Steph's place, but she wasn't home. The night before she'd literally hosed me off her porch before I'd even set foot in her place, so today, I 'let' myself in.

I found pictures of some Latin movie star-looking guy with his arm around _my_ Cupcake. Maybe Steph did have a boyfriend, or as she insisted, a fiancé. Hard to believe she'd choose a greaser over the Italian Stallion! A wicked thought came to me and I laughed out loud. Unzipping my pants, I took ahold of my dick and held the framed photo of Steph and her pretty boy lover in front of me. A few minutes later my seed was smeared all over the glass and my anger had been replaced with a satisfied grin. Next time she thought she was kissing this photo of her fuckin' sweetheart, she'd be swallowing my cum.

I'd teach her to reject me. I had her first and I'd have her last. I still had to find some way to teach her a lesson. No one gets the better of Joe Morelli without payback. I stewed about it the rest of the week.

Then, on Friday, the real shit hit the fan. Someone had put flyers of my herpes test results on car windshields throughout the Burg. Everybody now knew I had herpes. I was sure Steph had something to do with the flyers. She wouldn't get away with this or everything else she'd done to me. I needed revenge! I'd gone to Steph's office to confront her, but that damn phone call about _yummy cupcakes_ threw me off my game. I went home to figure out another way to get justice done.

Later that night, with the perfect plan in mind, I followed Steph to that damned Cuban place. It was the same restaurant that old fart cooked at. Before she left the place, I made sure her car would stall out after ten minutes or so of driving and who would come to her rescue? Yeah, I'd be right there to offer her a ride home. But she'd never make it home. I'd planned to teach her many lessons that night and knew I'd enjoy every minute of punishing that sweet ass of hers.

But instead, those four Army thugs waylaid me and beat the living daylights out of me. Who were those guys?

I dropped my spoon into the bowl of chili. I suddenly remembered those bastards had made me sign a job application and transfer papers – to freakin' Montana, of all the backwater places. _Fuck!_ I slammed my fist down on the table and my muscles protested loudly.

I needed something to dull the pain, and my rage, and got another bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. Crawling into bed, I proceeded to drink myself into oblivion.

_Carlos' POV_

The marketplace was busy this hour of the morning. Hundreds of sandaled feet stirred up the desert sand as people scurried down one aisle after another. Women covered in long black abayahs with hijabs veiling their faces paused in front of merchants' stalls to purchase the fresh baked bread, and fruits and vegetables necessary for their family's daily meals. Bobby/Jamaal and I didn't need to worry about our meals. The women of Badr Udeen's family saw to it that Bobby and I were well fed and cared for. But the market was also a good place to meet other like-minded Iraqis without drawing undue attention to ourselves.

To blend in, I wore the traditional dress of Iraqi Arab men – a loose ankle-length white gown, or dishdasha, which many of the Allied soldiers disparagingly called a man-dress. At least most Arab men also wore loose-fitting trousers and a shirt under the outer covering, so I didn't feel out of place wearing both.

My mission called for me to blend in seamlessly with the sector of Iraqis who believed Al-Qaeda's propaganda that all Westerners should be wiped off the face of the earth. But I also had to cultivate a relationship with those Iraqis who believed that some of the innovations and ideas from the western world were worthwhile and necessary if their country and its people were to grow and prosper. Today, Badr Udeen was taking me to meet an influential Iraqi businessman who wished to become more involved in the underworld of fighting Al-Qaeda and its supporters. Udeen had confided to me that this man had been instrumental in helping hundreds of political prisoners flee Iraq over the last decade.

I followed Udeen down a series of narrowing aisles where the merchant stalls became fewer and fewer. Udeen glanced back at me with a slight nod before slipping into a doorway. I quickened my step and was beside Udeen before the door closed.

Following a long dark hallway, we came out into an inner courtyard where a man dressed in typical western garb was waiting for us. Motioning us on, he led us further into the house. We passed by several rooms, each with an abundance of tall windows that could be opened to allow any cooling breeze to filter through. The pleasant smell of meat grilling filled the air as we walked by the kitchen area. Several women stood around a large table busily preparing food. The women of the house were also dressed in western garb without the traditional veils and outer coverings. They smiled pleasantly at us and continued their meal preparations.

We ended up in a high-ceiling room that faced out on the courtyard. The room was dotted with comfortable over-stuffed chairs in the western fashion. In the largest chair sat our host, a big gray-haired man dressed in a navy blue business suit. With a bow to our host, our guide ushered Udeen and I into nearby chairs and then departed. As we settled ourselves, a woman brought us Chai (tea), Iraq's social beverage of choice, along with a plate filled with dried fruits. Before any business could be conducted we observed the niceties of societal politeness and partook of the offered refreshments.

After we'd taken a few sips of tea and a bite or two of sweetened dates, our host leaned forward, ready to announce his intentions. There had been no introductions.

With a nod toward Badr, the man spoke directly to me, "My friend Badr Udeen tells me you are a man of honor, and of great power and prestige in America. I, too, am well placed in my country's hierarchy. We may be able to assist one another in our respective goals." He remained forward, interested in my response.

Not wanting to mislead him, I told him the truth. "I am just a soldier following orders. I have no political authority within my government."

"I understand your position. What I would ask of you is to inform those in your government, with the power to make things happen, of my interest in providing important timely information regarding Al-Qaeda's plans. In exchange, I would ask for occasional assistance in getting people who live in fear for their lives out of this country. Those Iraqis who openly defy Al-Qaeda and other terrorist groups are targets of covert death squads. The squads threaten families, including innocent children. I help get the families of these brave men and women to a safe place so they can continue their dangerous work to bring our country back to a state of independence and honor."

I looked directly into his dark eyes and said, "It helps me to know the motivation behind certain actions. Who are you and why do you risk so much?"

The man stared at me for a long time before he sat back and replied, "I am Ali al-Hajar. Although I was born here, I consider myself to be a citizen of the world. People… forget… the World Trade Center belonged to the world. Everyone – not just the Americans – had offices there."

The skin on the back of my neck prickled at his words and at the somber tone of his voice.

"I have five sons, all married now, and seven granddaughters," he explained, providing me a glimpse into his personal life. "As many in my social class do, I sent all of my boys to England for their formal schooling and higher education. My middle son decided to stay in London when he married a beautiful British girl who worked for a major financial firm. She was a wonderful daughter-in-law and highly accomplished in her field. Her company promoted her to head one of their offices in America, located within the World Trade Center. She was seven months pregnant with their first child – a son, my first and only grandson – when she died on 9/11. The light went out of my son's life. He will never be the same."

He paused for just a moment and with an audible breath, continued, his voice resonating with emotion, "People forget that _many_ nations lost so much due to the actions of a few. We do _not_ forget. And we also fight terror wherever and however we can."

I nodded solemnly and said, "I am deeply sorry for your loss, sir. I will do what I can to help your cause."

"That is all I can ask," he replied, and then inclined his head toward me. "If you listen closely to the talk of the men who gather at the fountain on the eastern edge of the marketplace, I believe you will hear things that might be useful to me, and possibly to you. You may contact me through Badr and I, likewise, will contact you when I have something I feel might be of interest to you. Be careful, friend, and may Allah protect you and your people as we strive to protect ours as well." He rose and we shook hands.

After we made plans for our next visit, Udeen and I casually strolled back through the marketplace. I took special care to memorize the faces of every man I saw standing around the fountain Udeen's friend had mentioned. We didn't linger. There would be time for that later.

Stepping into the safe-house and closing the door on the outside world brought a measure of much-needed ease to my continual state of readiness. My team was comfortable playing the roles we'd trained for, but being under constant scrutiny eventually took its toll. Having the luxury of the safe-house to retreat to was a relief for all of us. While we could never totally relax, the few minutes we were totally alone behind these four walls allowed us to let down our guard for a few precious moments.

It was time to report in. Bobby gave me the A-ok sign, letting me know he'd secured the outer doors. I let myself into the hidden command room and opened the encrypted laptop. After the usual access rigmarole, the web-cam revealed my DC contacts.

On the other end were Colonel Gabriel Striker, Tank James and Lester Santos. Col. Striker's procedure dictated I report anything new on my end before I ask questions about the status of anything from their end.

"We haven't heard anything more about a new ETA for the cryptographers. Not since last week's extraction from Canada went FUBAR." I allowed the tiniest of a smirk to show as I related the next bit of news. "Of course, they immediately _'retired'_ the leader in charge of that operation, so I'm sure the rest of that particular terrorist cell will be extremely careful in the future. The latest Intel has them hunkered down with their hostages in Morocco, just outside of Kenitra. We'll stay on top of it and keep you informed as soon as we hear of any movement. The interrogator al-Rashad left the country as soon as it was certain the arrival of Hawkins and Bell would be delayed."

"We have a few men stationed in North Africa. I'll inform them of this. The more eyes and ears, the better," Col. Striker noted, and then answered my unasked question, "We still haven't discovered the identity of The Chameleon, but we have narrowed the list of possibilities. Your two men here," he looked over his shoulder at Tank and Lester, "have worked diligently on the problem, but it is a massive undertaking to screen so many people. We'll find him though, you can make book on it."

Striker had a reputation for being a pitbull and when he sunk his teeth into his prey he didn't let go. With Tank and Lester on his team, I had no doubt the mole would be rooted out.

"I'm not a gambling man, but I'd say that's a sure bet," I retorted, seeing Lester behind the colonel give me a thumbs-up.

I still had more news to share. "Badr Udeen introduced me to a local businessman, Ali al-Hajar, who coordinates an underground refugee system for families of Iraqi dissidents. He expressed interest in providing key information about Al-Qaeda to the U.S. government in exchange for assistance in finding safe passage for threatened Iraqi families."

The colonel's face hardened and he said, "I don't like the timing, but at least I've heard of him. Do you honestly think you can trust this man?"

"Udeen trusts him, sir. But I'd appreciate a thorough background check on him anyway, just to be sure," I answered.

"We're on it," Tank said and I could see Lester typing furiously at another computer terminal in the room.

"I know you realize what is at stake here," Col. Striker said calmly. "We can't afford any screw-ups."

"Roger that, sir," I replied.

"Got it!" Lester crowed and he handed a sheet of paper to the colonel, who read the document and then smiled.

"Well," said Col. Striker as his eyes focused on the web cam, "It looks like you just got lucky, Mañoso. Al-Hajar is legit. In fact, he's a frickin' hero in my book."

I only nodded in response.

Then the colonel scowled and said, "Listen, I'm all for humanitarian aid and crap, but don't let this Al-Hajar distract you from your mission, Captain Mañoso."

"I won't, sir," I replied.

"Anything else for me?" asked Col. Striker.

"No, sir."

"Then I'll sign off," he said. "You may have a few extra minutes with James and Santos." And he left the room.

Once the colonel was gone, Lester immediately began typing and talking a hundred miles an hour.

"You gotta see this!" he exclaimed. "It's hot off the presses!"

A few seconds later, some images popped up in a new window on my laptop's screen. Unbelievable! I could barely breathe when I saw the photos of my Babe. There she was, in glorious color, with her latest "_Are you a Babe_?" advertisements. She looked beautiful and confident. I wanted to devour her – mind, body and soul.

As I gazed lustfully at the photos of my lovely Stephanie, my mind barely registered the fact that Lester was yammering about some television interview.

"…and then you'll get to see for yourself how she's handling all the media attention. I can hardly wait to meet her in the flesh."

"You'd better keep your hands off her flesh, Santos," I growled. "She's mine. And don't you forget it."

"Chill, sir," Santos said. "You ain't gotta worry about your lady. She's settin' me up with one of her friends, remember? I was only letting you know about the video file I just sent you, 'cause we gotta go now."

Tank grinned at me across the distance and said, "Until next time, sir. Keep your head down." And the connection went blank.

Only then did I tear my eyes away from the photos of my Babe and notice the little video icon on the corner of my screen. I clicked on it and another window popped up with a news clip about Stephanie Plum and her business partner Dawson Books and their company's new line of upscale lingerie.

Being able to actually see her move and talk and smile touched me in a way I didn't expect. The video of her was like watching a familiar movie, yet it was so riveting I couldn't take my eyes off her. She seemed to have a good rapport with her business partner, and had obviously captivated the young male interviewer who couldn't stop staring and smiling at her. When he touched her hand, a twinge of envy shot through me. If only I could touch her! Seeing her so poised and confident, I felt pride swell up in my heart. Yes, my Babe was taking the world by storm. And, yes, my heart wasn't the only thing swelling up.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10 Chapter 94

**CHAPTER 94**

_Ricardo's POV_

¿Por qué yo? [_Why me?_] Why is everyone in my life deserting me?

I do not like the silence in my home this Saturday morning. The house feels so empty. I cannot remember a time when I was alone here. Even after my children grew up and moved out, Teresa or Mama was always here, fixing my breakfast or cleaning up. Today, there is just silence and emptiness.

Dios, how I miss them! How could they do this to me? Is what I said last night really so terrible that they feel they must punish me so? What about what they did to me? Going behind my back, keeping secrets from me… isn't that much worse?

And Mama! Getting engaged to be married… at her age… to a stranger, no less! That man did not even have the cojones to come to me directly, let alone ask my permission. How do I forgive that breach of manners? It is just not done! And yet, they are mad _at me_?

I told myself last night I would see Father Brady today, but now, I do not think I have done anything to be forgiven for. I am the offended party. They should be begging me to forgive them.

But I will go. I will tell my priest what transpired last night and how my family betrayed my trust and disrespected my position of authority. He will then have the full picture and can advise me. As a man in charge of an entire parish, he knows what great responsibility it is to try to guide his flock through the ups and downs of life. He will understand.

. . .

Father Brady had been silent ever since I started talking. His face gave no indication of what he was thinking. I had been expecting some words of comfort or at least a nod of the head as I related my family's thoughtless behavior toward me.

"And so, Father, you have listened to all my words. You have heard my pain. What do you advise?"

I watched as he steepled his fingers together and pressed them against his chin, while his grey eyes stared at me over his glasses. He looked… sad.

"My dear Ricardo, we have known each other a long time, haven't we? For most of our adult lives."

"Yes, Father," I nodded.

Father Brady continued, "I have been your friend as well as your priest. I know all of your family and your relatives, your friends and neighbors, and even your customers. I've been to your home many times and have eaten more dinners at _Rosa's_ than I could ever count. And I can truthfully say, you're a good man."

I smiled at his kind words. This was someone who knew me, who knew my character and my good deeds. The next statement, though, was like a blow to my gut.

"You are also a proud man, Ricardo," he said.

"Father, _no!_" I found myself rapidly shaking my head as his words registered on my brain. He must have misunderstood what I was trying to explain to him. "I… I may be self-assured – even confident. I know many people look up to me and hold me in high regard. I even may be more talented or knowledgeable than others _in some things_. But I am not prideful! I give God all the credit for what I have accomplished and for the good man I have become."

"Ricardo, listen to your own words. They speak for themselves. You hold yourself above others. You boast of the important people you know and how many people look up to you. You presume to know what is the best path for each member of your family, even though they are adults themselves. You expect, no… you demand they not only _come to you_ for your words of wisdom, but that they _follow your 'advice'_ to the letter. And you sit in judgment on them when they don't do as you command. Is it really any wonder why your family is so upset with you?"

"But I do not…" I began.

He raised his hand. "You came to me for advice. Please let me give it," he requested.

I tried to sit back and appear relaxed, but this was all going wrong. This was not how I envisioned this conversation happening.

Father Brady put his steepled fingers up to his lips as he gazed thoughtfully at me. Dread filled me as I listened to his next words, "One quick test of a prideful nature is to ask yourself, 'How do I react when someone criticizes me for something?' Is your initial reaction one of resentment and indignation? Do you think, '_How dare they say this to ME_'?"

I could feel the air in my lungs leave my body. He was describing me… my reaction to my family's criticisms last night. I hung my head.

Father Brady pursed his lips. "I can see I've struck a nerve. Your pride was hurt last night, wasn't it?"

I slowly nodded. "My very own mother, and my wife, even my children said such terrible things to me."

"They were only responding to the terrible things you said to them." Father Brady sighed deeply. "Ricardo, listen well to my words and don't just be thinking of your rebuttal." He waited for my nod of assent.

"Pride is the most grievous of all sins in the eyes of God. This sin is silent because it is the sin itself that prevents men from admitting it. Remember, there is a thin line between righteousness and self-righteousness."

My heart sank as I listened to his words. I knew I was about to receive a sermon on the sins of pride. If I was truthful with myself, I should have expected it. But I had let my pride convince me I was in the right. I settled in as Father Brady counseled me for the next two hours. Then I had to admit all the ways I had allowed pride to take over my life. The worst for me was realizing that my family had suffered because of my actions. Saying those words out loud, admitting I had caused my family pain, brought me to my knees and not just to pray.

We discussed how to recognize the signs of pride and the actions to take to avoid falling into its sinful trap. I realized I had a lifetime of behaviors to change. Could I do it, and even more importantly, would it be enough for my family?

Today's confession, the Sacrament of Reconciliation, went well and I accepted Father Brady's Acts of Contrition with good grace. I knew I would be saying a lot of prayers over the next few months.

But when he told me what my Acts of Penance were my jaw dropped. He could not seriously expect me to do those things, could he? _It would be humiliating… _

_Oh… Dear Lord_. He does this to teach me humility. To humble myself not only before God, but also before my family and friends. I knew my penance would be severe, but this…

I left the church in a daze. There was so much to think about. I could not go home, not all alone to an empty house. Maybe Teresa had come home?

I called the house, but no one answered. I called Teresa's sister's house and Carmen answered, but when she heard my voice, she hung up on me. Dios, when would this end?

I could not go to _Rosa's_. Not today. Not with all this on my mind. I had promised Alejandro to alternate days with him and Saturday was my day to run the restaurant by myself. I decided to call Alejandro and ask him to take over for me today. I walked through the park next to the church and found a bench to sit on and think things through.

_Stephanie's POV_

_I love my job!_

I stopped in at the office this Saturday morning and found out I won the 'new orders' pool. _Seventy-five big ones!_ Yippee! That should be enough to buy donuts for the whole office on Monday morning so we could celebrate our record-breaking sales.

Books/Plum Designs was well on its way to breaking all its previous profit records and it was all due to the _Babe!_ line. I was tickled that the buying public liked my designs and proud of all my friends' creative efforts in marketing the new line. And I was especially grateful to Dawson for taking a huge chance in hiring me. I called my boss – he'd stayed at home today with Rosa after the unpleasant events of last night. When he heard yesterday's sales figures, he was beside himself with glee. Neither of us could wait to start our next ad campaign.

While I was in Newark, I stopped by the Sacred Heart Cathedral Basilica where Carlos and I would be married. I wanted to take the tour and talk with the priest who would perform the wedding. The cathedral was huge and absolutely amazing. I knew I'd picked the right church for Carlos and I to be wed. Standing outside the impressive entryway, I imagined a bunch of Carlos' soldier friends in military dress performing the 'arch of sabers' for Carlos and I to walk under as we left the church. The ceremonial arch would be so impressive, especially in this inspiring setting.

After one of the church's docents gave me the grand tour, I met with Father Brady. He was an older man with white hair, but very few wrinkles. He looked like a man who was at peace with himself. I introduced myself and told him my fiancé was a soldier stationed overseas and wouldn't be back in the States until a few months before the wedding. In response, he said a short prayer that 'God keep all our servicemen and women safe.' Then we talked about the ceremony itself and what I wanted. He let me know what he expected of the engaged couple and what he usually talked about during the marriage ceremony. I felt comfortable with him and liked that he had a sense of humor.

To complete the scheduling arrangements, Father Brady introduced me to the church's events director, Catherine Meads. Catherine was my mother's age, but she was nothing like my mom. She had a hearty laugh, a dry wit and she immediately put me at ease. She was tall, at least three inches taller than me. Catherine was also full-figured and had a modern hairdo with a rich brunette color that might have had a little help from a bottle, but as she said, only her hairdresser knew for sure. We had a productive meeting and started the paperwork for the use of the cathedral. I felt good knowing the wedding location was all set.

Before I left her office, Catherine shot me a conspiratorial smile and confided, "I feel I should thank you, Stephanie. You see, I became a _Babe_ last weekend. Ray, my husband, bought me several matching sets of your lingerie for our anniversary. They not only make me feel wonderful when I'm wearing them, but I feel pretty good after the lingerie comes off, too." She let out a rich, throaty laugh and explained, "They did wonders for our… uh… _celebration_ later that evening."

I grinned back."It's nice to hear our lingerie delivers on its promises. Sounds like your husband did, too." We both laughed. I felt like I'd made a new friend.

The day was warm and sunny for a change and I took the opportunity to stroll through the park next to the church. It would be a beautiful setting in June to take some outdoor wedding pictures. I was mentally picturing Carlos and me standing amidst the greenery with the backdrop of the architecturally striking cathedral when I felt something brush against my legs.

I jumped back and looked down. Sitting in front of me was a small ball of black fur. Our eyes met and a furry tail separated from the ball and wagged a little. I smiled and kneeled down and was rewarded with a lick on my nose as the ball unfolded itself into the cutest little puppy ever. Its front paws were perched on my knees and its tail was now wagging incessantly. Its little face with its big dark eyes looked up at me with hope.

I reached to pet it and its body wriggled in joy. The puppy was dangerously thin and its fur was badly matted. There wasn't a collar. I couldn't help it. I picked him up and cuddled him. He laid his head on my chest and gave a sigh. My heart cracked a little.

Continuing my walk through the park, I stroked his fur and whispered soothing words to the little black bundle in my arms until we came to a bench. I sat down and loosened my hold on him, but the puppy had no interest in leaving my arms. He growled once and then barked, staring to my left.

I realized we weren't alone. There was a man sitting on the other end of the bench with his head in his hands. When the puppy barked, the man looked over at us. To my surprise, I saw it was Ricardo. Of all the people I could have run into today, the last person I wanted to see was him, especially after the sad events of last night.

"Estefania? How wonderful to see you! But what do you have in your arms?"

As if sensing the sudden tension in my body, the puppy struggled a bit as I held him and he let out a second small _woof!_

Ricardo pulled back, away from me. "Is this a dangerous animal? Does he bite?"

"I hardly think so, Ricardo. He's just a little bit of a thing, but I think he's protecting me from you," I said, a smile stretching my face.

"From me? You don't need protecting from me. I would never hurt you."

"Well, maybe not physically, but emotionally you wield a pretty powerful blow," I said, thinking back on all the lies he'd told me.

He looked like I'd slapped him. My tone had been a little harsher than I intended, but I didn't expect my comment to affect him that much. "I'm sorry, Ricardo. That was uncalled for."

"No, mi querida. You are right. I have hurt you. I have hurt all those I love. And one by one… they have left me." He gave me a look of confusion and disbelief.

How could he be so clueless? "I'm surprised that you're surprised. You said some awful things last night. People can only take so much before they either fight back or take off."

"I am more used to the 'fighting back' than the 'taking off'," he replied. "My mama has chastised me all my life. And Teresa has yelled at me and told me off many times in the past, but she has never left me. Never even threatened to. I know I behaved badly, but how can I make amends if she will not see me?"

"It may take some time for your wife to cool off and I don't think a simple 'I'm sorry' is going to cut it. She's going to have to see a real change in you, that you truly are sorry and understand what you've done. And, if I were you, I would expect her to be angry with you for quite some time. There's no easy fix for the damage you've done."

"I know, I just spent the morning with my priest. After a long sermon and many prayers, I am thoroughly humbled. I want to make amends to my wife, and my family, but I don't know how to begin. Teresa will not talk to me. Would you intercede for me, Estefania? I would be forever grateful." He gazed at me beseechingly.

He had the same beautiful brown eyes my Carlos had, but I steeled myself against his charms. "Ricardo, your relationship with your wife is just that… yours. You caused the rift between you two and you will have to mend it. I know you love her, I also know you have a great need to be right. When you need Teresa to be happy more than you need to be right, then you may stand a chance of winning her back."

I had a huge interest in seeing how this distraught man sitting next to me handled this fight with his wife. In a little over a year, Carlos would be home and it was my hope that he and his father would be able to work out their differences. But if Ricardo couldn't repair the damage he'd done last night, there was no hope for him to repair the two decades of damage he'd done to his relationship with his youngest son.

"_I do_ want my Teresa to be happy. That is all I have ever wanted."

"No, Ricardo. Last night your wife _was _happy, but you felt slighted that she did the photo shoot on her own, without telling you, indeed, without asking your permission. So you made sure she knew how she'd hurt your pride. You did the same thing with your mother. You weren't thinking about your family's needs at all. Your terrible words last night were all about you and your hurt feelings."

He cringed at my last few sentences. _Good!_ I knew I was getting to him.

"You are very insightful, mi hija se." [pronounced 'miha say'; _my daughter-to-be_] "I will think long and hard on your words and on Father Brady's."

I sat back against the bench and rubbed the little puppy's ears. He was perfectly content to be held and petted. I imagined he was also weak with hunger. I needed to feed him. I set him down at my feet and dug through my purse looking for something edible. I found a crumbly Tastykake, a peanut butter cookie bar, and broke off a piece for the puppy. He gently took the cookie from my fingers and daintily gobbled it down. And then he did a little dance for more.

Ricardo watched us for awhile, seemingly deep in thought. When I'd fed the puppy the rest of the cookie bar, Ricardo finally spoke, "That little dog reminds me of Carlos."

I glanced over at him. "What do you mean? How so?" I asked.

Ricardo reached down to let the puppy smell his hand. "Pobrecito!" he said, speaking to the puppy. [_Poor little one!_]

When he didn't bite him, Ricardo patted the puppy on the top of his head. "When Carlos was a toddler, he had a stuffed animal he carried around with him everywhere. I had forgotten all about the toy. It was a little black dog and it looked very much like this poor little thing."

I almost said 'Blackie' but caught myself in time. How could I explain that Rosa had already told me about Carlos' stuffed animal and that I now had the very same toy in my possession?

Instead I answered, "How cute! Did Carlos' have a name for his stuffed dog?"

"Yes, _Negrito_."

"_Ne what_?" I cried, not expecting that answer.

"Negrito. Oh, I think he also used the English word… _Blackie_," he clarified.

I sighed. I should be used to dealing with two languages, growing up in an Italian family. Now, I was going to have to get used to hearing things in Spanish.

"I think I'll call him Blackie. Thank you, Ricardo, for sharing a piece of Carlos' childhood with me. Maybe it was fate that we ran into each other today?"

"I am always glad to see you, Estefania. You are not going to keep this chucho… this mutt, are you?"

"Yes, I am. He's obviously homeless. He's so thin and his fur looks like it hasn't been brushed in weeks, maybe months. I can't just walk away from him." I picked the puppy back up and stood. Ricardo stood also.

"Thank you for talking with me, Estefania. I feel better. You have given me a lot to think about." Ricardo kissed my cheek and gave one last pat to Blackie. "Please have your little Blackie looked at by an animal doctor. Just to make sure he has no diseases."

"That's a good point, Ricardo. Thank you. I will. And I wish you well with Teresa." I squeezed his arm and we parted ways. Ricardo headed to the parking lot and Blackie and I headed back to the church.

I found Catherine in her office sitting at her desk, but she wasn't alone this time. A little girl was tucked in the corner of the couch, a coloring book in her lap. The girl had long black hair and beautiful greenish grey eyes and she looked to be about seven years old. I poked my head in and knocked on the doorjamb.

"Stephanie, I thought you'd gone?" Catherine said, looking up at me. I sidled sideways into the room and then turned to face her, Blackie front and center in my arms.

"What a darling little dog," Catherine exclaimed. "Where did you find him?"

"He found me. I was walking through Branch Brook Park and he adopted me. He's obviously a stray, but I thought I'd let you know I have him, just in case someone comes looking for him."

Catherine stood and walked around her desk. She slowly extended her hand so that Blackie could smell her. After he'd given her fingers a little lick, Catherine stroked his head. "Well, I'd agree with you, Stephanie. He's too thin and raggedy to belong to anyone, though he is very cute."

Catherine spoke to the little girl, "Mari, come see this adorable puppy." The little girl's eyes got big and she shrank further into the side of the couch, hugging the coloring book to her chest as if it were a shield.

Catherine whispered to me, "She's afraid of dogs," and then turned back to the little girl.

"Mari, this is Stephanie, and Steph, this is my granddaughter, Mari. She fell off the schoolyard jungle gym this morning during recess and got the wind knocked out of her. Her chest hurts and she's still not feeling too well. Her father dropped her off here until lunchtime," Catherine explained.

"It's nice to meet you, Mari. That must have been scary, falling off the jungle gym?" I asked.

Mari nodded and spoke, practically whispering. "The school nurse gave me some pills to swallow and this coloring book, and Daddy let me sit on his lap in the cab. It doesn't hurt as much now."

I kneeled down, still holding Blackie firmly in my arms. "I was telling your grandmother I just found this puppy in the park. He's lost and all alone and he could sure use some friends." I began petting Blackie. "He really likes to be patted on his head and scratched behind his ears. Would you like to be his friend?"

Mari shook her head and stayed on the couch.

"He's really scared, like you were when you fell off the jungle gym. He doesn't have a Daddy to hug him and tell him everything's going to be alright. I'm sure if you gave him a pat or two, you'd make him feel better."

Mari stared at Blackie for a long time before she slowly put down her coloring book and came over to us.

She started to reach toward Blackie, but drew back. "Is he friendly?" she asked.

I nodded. "He's scared, but seems to be very friendly. Let him smell your hand first."

Mari held out her arm and giggled as Blackie licked her fingers.

"Doesn't he remind you of Angus?" Catherine asked. The little girl nodded and then scratched the puppy behind his ears.

In a shy voice, Mari informed me, "He looks like the dog we had when I was a little girl. His name was Angus. He died." She frowned as she said the last sentence, but then Blackie nudged her hand with his little black nose and she continued to pet him. "What's his name?"

"I thought I'd call him Blackie," I replied. Mari's eyes met mine before she turned back to the wriggling fur ball in my arms and stated, "That's a good name for him."

I set Blackie on the floor and Mari slowly sank down on the rug. As if sensing her fear, the puppy got on his belly and inched over to her. He crawled up in her lap and her face broke out into a big smile. I was amazed how gentle and intuitive he was with her, carefully avoiding her bruised midsection. Well, now I knew Blackie would be good with Carlos' and my children. And that thought brought a big smile to my face.

"So, you're going to keep him?" Catherine asked. We watched as the two young ones interacted. Blackie gently chewed on Mari's fingers, but it was obvious he was just mouthing them. Mari giggled as she tickled his belly.

I nodded. "Yes, he's already won me over. I decided to call him Blackie because when my fiancé was a little boy, he had a stuffed dog that looked like him and he called it Blackie."

"Do you think your husband-to-be will be okay with you adopting a dog?" Catherine asked, kneeling down and rubbing the puppy's ears.

"I don't think Carlos will mind. And this little guy will be good company for me in the meantime. It'll be nice to have a warm, affectionate body waiting for me at home every night. I guess I'll need to install a doggy door to the patio so he can go outside when he needs to."

Catherine stood and said, "As an old married woman, let me give you one piece of advice. Male dogs are just like men. They'll try to dominate you and take over the best places in the house. Make sure you maintain the upper hand with him and try to raise him around other men. Otherwise, when your man comes home, this little guy will try to run him off or, at the least, try to rule the roost."

I chuckled. I couldn't imagine a dog, or anyone for that matter, dominating Carlos or running him off, though Catherine's advice about socializing Blackie was wise. I didn't want a nippy or overly barky dog. "Thanks, Catherine. I don't have a lot of men in my life, but I'll make sure Blackie spends time with my father and a few other men."

I kneeled and called Blackie to me. He leapt off Mari's lap and scampered over to me. Mari laughed. "He already knows you're his mom. He's a smart puppy," she said. "He's lucky he found you, otherwise he would still be lost and alone."

Smiling at Mari, I said, "Thank you for being his friend. Maybe I should call him Lucky, instead?"

Mari shook her head. "No, I think Blackie suits him better."

"I think you're right, Mari. Blackie it is."

Scooping him up, I stood and turned back to Catherine. "Thank you again for all your help in getting the paperwork for my wedding started. It feels real now with the date set and the church booked."

"I'm glad you picked our church. The fact that it's your fiancé's parish will make it all the more special to the two of you and to his family." Catherine patted Blackie one last time.

"Catherine, this may sound odd, but I'd like to keep my wedding date and location a secret for now," I started to explain, but Catherine was very understanding.

"No one will hear anything from me," she assured me.

I said goodbye to Mari and carried my new dog out to the car and we started for home.

After a quick stop at the pet store to buy some food and accessories, I pulled into my driveway and hit the garage button, but nothing happened. I pushed it again, still nothing. Sighing, I opened my car door and Blackie jumped across my lap and raced away. I followed as fast as I could, but my heart was in my mouth. Our street wasn't a busy one, but I couldn't bear to just find him and then lose him to a car accident the same day.

Relief flooded through me when I saw that Blackie had run across the street and my neighbor Bernadette Disher had him safely tucked in her arms. I'd talked with Bernadette several times and she seemed like a very nice lady. Her husband, Jake, had helped me fix my doorbell when I first moved in.

"Did you get a dog or are you just babysitting this adorable little boy?" Bernadette asked, while Blackie licked her face.

"I found him wandering around a park and he glommed on to me. I'm pretty sure he's a stray and yes, I'm going to keep him. His name's Blackie. The first thing we're going to do is get him some dinner. Then a bath and a comb out. I wonder how old he is?"

Bernadette held him up and looked him over. "Well, he's a Cairn Terrier and I'd say he's definitely less than six months old. He sure is a cutie!" She handed him back to me. "Cairns are a big dog in a little body. They have big attitudes and don't realize how small they are. They're fearless."

"A Cairn Terrier? I don't know that breed. So, you think he's a purebred dog?"

"Yes. I do. Remember Dorothy's little dog, Toto… in the Wizard of Oz? He was a Cairn Terrier, too, and black just like this little darling," she said.

I couldn't help smiling. Wizard of Ahhhs! How fitting! See… it was fate for us to find each other. "Thanks for catching him, Bernadette. I just bought a collar and leash for him, but wanted to give him a bath before I put it on him."

"If you ever need anyone to doggy-sit, just give me a call. I love dogs and Jake won't mind," she offered. "By the way, I noticed you didn't park in your garage. Don't tell me your garage door won't open?"

"Yeah, it seems to be broken. It worked fine this morning."

"Don't worry. Half the houses on this block have had problems with the wiring. Jake fixed ours in a matter of minutes. I'll send him over as soon as he gets back from Home Depot."

"Thanks, Bernadette. I'd really appreciate it. And thanks for the info on Cairn Terriers."

We said goodbye and then I introduced Blackie to his new home.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11 Chapter 95

**CHAPTER 95**

_Stephanie's POV_

The weekend had been a busy one, scheduling the church and taking care of my new roommate, Blackie. He was such a good little puppy and already housebroken. Even he and Rex seemed to get along, though I made sure Rex stayed in his cage or in my hands.

My neighbor Jake Disher had been able to fix my garage door opener after he wrapped a wire he said seemed to be interfering with the garage door signal. He didn't know what the wire was for, but wrapping it in electrical tape fixed the interference so he left it as is. To my great delight, he also installed a doggie door for Blackie to be able to come and go out to the patio. The Dishers were going to get a huge Christmas basket full of goodies from Blackie and me this year.

Blackie immediately knew what the doggie door was for, so I knew he had once belonged to somebody. I decided he could have full run of the house since he was so well-behaved. Monday afternoon, we had an appointment with a veterinarian to get him checked out and micro-chipped, so if he ever got lost again there was a better chance of him finding his way back to me.

I used to hate going in to work when I was employed at E.E. Martin, but now each morning was a joy to get up and make the shorter drive into Newark and Books/Plum Designs.

Our first major ad campaign _'Are you a Babe?'_ was going gangbusters and breaking all sorts of sales records, both online and in the retail stores, but success waits for no one.

Today, Monday, I brought in several boxes of assorted donuts for everyone in the office, using the money I won in the 'new orders' pool last Friday. We deserved to celebrate our success before we moved on to the next phase.

Just three days after the launch of our first big campaign, we were already working on our next marketing push due to be unveiled mid-January. We also wanted something that would target the Valentine's Day buyers, a big holiday for lingerie gift purchases. So, this morning we were holding a photo shoot for our next _Babe!_ campaign called, '_Join the Babe Nation_.' Similar to our first strategy, our marketing staff had recruited women of all ages, sizes and ethnicities as models for the new media blitz.

Books/Plum Designs was getting accolades from other fashion companies for the inventiveness of our ad campaign, especially for showcasing everyday women and photographing them in regular dress and not in our lingerie. We reserved the photos of models wearing the lingerie for our catalogs and online site. Right now, it was all about getting our name out there. We felt the quality and style of our product spoke for itself.

I made my way down to the floor where the shoot was being held and slipped in the back door to watch for a while. The photographer we'd hired was wonderful at putting women at ease and bringing out the best in them.

A smile broke out on my face when the next model stepped out of the dressing room. It was Rosa and she looked stunning in a fashionable black silk dress with a ruffle riding high on her left shoulder, which accentuated her luminous skin. The hairdresser had fluffed her beautiful white hair until it framed her face in a soft feminine style. She looked sexy and alluring while still all class.

Rosa was wringing her hands and had an unsettled look on her face so I sidled over and said, "Good morning, Rosa. How are you?"

"Stephanie, it is good to see you. I am well." She smiled and gave me a warm embrace. "Thank you for asking me to be a part of your next exciting promotion." She leaned into me and whispered a confession, "Though truth be told, I am a bit nervous. These fine clothes and the makeup… I hardly recognize myself."

"You look absolutely fabulous. How do you feel now that your first modeling ad has gone public?"

She blushed prettily and admitted, "I am loving it. My friends have been calling me all weekend. Most have been envious, but some are old biddies and they… well, let us just say they think like my old-fashioned son," Rosa grimaced and then brightened. "I even had a few strangers stop me on the street and when Dawson and I went out for dinner Sunday evening, a woman asked me for my autograph." She gave a little laugh. "All the attention people are paying me is a little unnerving."

Rosa had told me she'd lived most of her life in the shadow of her domineering husband, so I was happy to see her enjoying her time in the limelight. "Our PR department must be doing something right, if you are being recognized on the street and in restaurants. I hope all the attention has been pleasant and not too intrusive?"

"Yes, everyone has been very polite. And at least now that I have moved in with Dawson, I do not have to be embarrassed by my son's abominable behavior." Rosa's cheeks flushed with anger.

"His reaction Friday night was pretty severe. By the way, I saw Ricardo on Saturday. We talked briefly and he told me he'd been to see his priest," I informed her.

Rosa's eyebrow shot up the same way I'd seen Carlos'. I guess it was an inherited ability; one I didn't have no matter how hard I tried.

"Maybe my obstinate son has finally seen the error of his ways and wishes to repent." She shook her head and said with an uncharacteristic hint of sarcasm, "Or maybe he ran to his old friend Father Brady for sympathy for having such an 'ungrateful' family."

"He seemed really down and I thought he sounded sincere. He asked me to help convince Teresa to come home."

Rosa tensed slightly. "What did you tell him, my dear?"

"I told him he caused the problem and it was his to fix."

She relaxed visibly. "That was the right answer. Teresa is more than a little mad at him. She was hurt, terribly, by his words and his lack of support. We both were. I, at least, have the support of my wonderful novio and I do not need my son's. As for Teresa, it will take a lot for her to forgive him, if she even can."

I nodded sympathetically and wished the entire family well. Changing the subject, I asked, "Are we still on for our cooking lesson tomorrow evening?"

Rosa's face broke out in a big smile. "Yes, but may I invite Dawson to join us?"

"Of course. It'll be fun to have three of us in the kitchen. And you can meet my new boyfriend," I winked mysteriously. Laughing at the shocked look on her face, I explained, "I rescued a little puppy Saturday. He is a black Cairn Terrier and he's adorable. I named him Blackie in honor of…"

Rosa chimed in, "…Carlito's stuffed dog. Oh, how delightful, my dear. I can't wait to meet the new Blackie." The photographer motioned Rosa to join him so we said our goodbyes.

The next few weeks in the Mañoso clan were going to be uncomfortable, at best, and potentially explosive, at worst. Time would tell.

. . .

Early Wednesday morning, Tina pulled up in my driveway and honked once. Even though it was earlier than I normally woke up, I was so excited I was already packed and ready to go. I gave Blackie a hug and a smooch and ran out the door.

I was leaving Blackie behind because he had a date with the veterinarian. When the vet had checked Blackie out on Monday, he'd asked if I was going to have him neutered. The vet said if I wasn't going to breed him later in life, it was best to get him fixed before he reached full adulthood. So, while I was gone, Dad would be taking Blackie to be 'fixed.' He'd pick Blackie up later today.

I had two suitcases with me, one filled with my best clothes to wear in New York City and the second one empty. I planned to fill the empty one with the high end clothes I hoped to buy with Tina's help, so, while in London, I would look the part of an up and coming fashion designer.

As I got in Tina's car, she let a shrill scream, "Girls' trip to the City!" We high-fived each other and I buckled my seat belt. "Stevie, we haven't done anything like this in ages. I'm so glad you invited me. We're going to have a blast." She backed out onto the street and we were on our way.

It was going to be a whirlwind trip. Tina would be with me today and tomorrow to help me shop for clothes in New York City and then she would return home. I, however, would board a transatlantic flight to London tomorrow night. I had a series of meetings and interviews scheduled for Friday and Saturday. I couldn't believe Books/Plum Designs was already going international with the _Babe!_ lingerie line. Harrods was going to be our main distributor and they specifically requested that I fly over and do a series of multi-media interviews to introduce the line to their market.

It had been a while since I'd been out of Jersey and even though most of those had been short trips to New York, I hadn't had much money back then. This time, I had a nice chunk of change to spend however I wanted and I was revved up to get ready for my London trip. I'd never traveled 'abroad.' I took out my brand new passport and showed it to Tina. We both squealed.

"Next time, you _have_ to take me with you," Tina cried. "I want to be part of the jet-setting crowd, with fine clothes, lots of bling, and gorgeous foreign men fawning all over me." She grinned and batted her baby browns at me.

I rolled my blue ones back at her. "There won't be any men fawning over me, gorgeous or not. I only have eyes for Carlos," I quipped. "And I thought you were dying to be Mrs. Lester Santos?"

"I am, but maybe you and I could squeeze in a few publicity trips before that happens?" She wagged her eyebrows at me and gave me a wicked smile.

"Let's see how this first one goes. I'm so excited about London. Heck, I'm excited about going to New York City. Dawson set me up with appointments at some of the smaller but classier fashion houses. I can't wait to try on real designer clothes. Tina, I never imagined anything like this ever happening to me. And this would never have happened if I hadn't met Carlos and followed his advice to live my dreams."

We talked the entire way in to the City, discussing, among other things, the type of clothes I would need for London. Not only was it pretty cold there, it was also very damp, so we'd be looking for a fashion forward multi-purpose coat and a couple of classy suits that were appropriate for the work day and could be dressed up for an evening out. My underwear was, of course, _Babe!_ all the way.

Everything was looking up.

_Joe's POV_

I must have slept or was too drunk to remember anything until Wednesday. Then my boss, Joe Juniak, showed up at my house. The letter with 'my' transfer request to Montana had arrived on his desk and, unable to reach me by phone, Juniak came over to my house. I didn't answer the doorbell or the pounding on the door. I guess he was worried about me so he broke in and found me passed out in my bedroom.

After trying to shake me awake, he dumped a glassful of cold water over me. Sputtering, I came up swinging. Juniak let me fall out of bed and come to my senses before he leaned over and helped me up. He saw the cuts and bruises and must have had some inkling why I'd called in sick.

"Must have been a hell of a bender. You haven't been at work for days and you look like shit. You wanna talk about it?"

I sat on the side of my bed and glared at him.

He tried to get me to tell him why I was requesting a transfer, but I wasn't about to admit that four pieces of Army shit had coerced me into signing the paper.

It was clear from the expression on Juniak's face that he was thinking, 'Good riddance.' He approved the transfer on the spot and then made a phone call.

He sat in the chair across from my bed and I listened as he arranged for my new life. It sounded like he was talking to the guy who'd be my new supervisor. I found out I was going to be working for the Montana Highway Patrol and living in a podunk town called Butte. Juniak pronounced it as 'Beaut', but it was probably more of an ugly 'Butt' of a hick town. _Great!_ I couldn't believe the fucking turn my life had taken.

After he finished his call, he told me I was on administrative leave for the next two weeks. That way, I wouldn't have to report in to work here and I could leave for the Big Sky state of Montana as soon as I was packed.

When Juniak left, my anger boiled over. The last thing I wanted to do was move to fucking Montana. And work for the Highway Patrol of all things. I was a freaking detective, not a speed cop. What was in Montana, anyway? Cattle, cowboys, grass, lots of wide open spaces? I hoped to hell it wasn't a dry state.

My phone rang and I realized it had been ringing a lot lately, but in my drunken haze I'd ignored it for days. I checked my messages and there were dozens and dozens. Scrolling through the numbers I recognized many were from my mother, sisters and brothers, while others were from old girlfriends. I listened to one from my mother. All she could do was weep and wail about me being 'ruined.' _Damn!_ The entire town must know about my herpes test results by now.

Oh God! Terry must have heard, too. How would she react? She'd probably be glad I was moving out of state so she wouldn't have to deal with me and my infected dick.

This was all Stephanie Plum's fault. She was going to pay and pay big for this.

I stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Stripping down, I stepped in front of the toilet. That's when I realized something was wrong… _very wrong_. I looked down at my limp pecker and saw it. A blister! I brushed my thumb across it and pain shot through me. _Fuck!_ It couldn't be… not so soon? That Plum bitch really did it! _She gave me herpes!_ I clenched my fist and hit the wall above the toilet. _Yeow!_ Now my hand hurt. At least it took my mind off my disfigured dick. Shaking my head, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water hit my back. I stayed under the spray until it turned cold.

I had plenty of time to think and knew what I needed to do. Careful of my blistering privates, I geared up in full police 'dress,' ready for bear. It was time for payback. Herpes was a life sentence and someone had to pay. Miss 'Oh So High and Mighty' Stephanie Plum deserved what she was about to get. I drove to the bitch's townhouse.

When she didn't answer the door, I decided to 'let' myself in. From my jacket pocket, I took out a set of tools and unlocked the front door. As I pushed the door open, I heard a growl and then saw a little black dog standing a few feet into the foyer. I figured he couldn't do much damage to me, but I didn't need a barking dog attracting any of the neighbors' attention. I stepped in and swung back my leg to kick it, but the little ankle biter ran past me out the door and down the walk. Oh well, at least now I didn't have to worry about the nasty thing biting me.

I looked around the house and it was obvious Steph wasn't there. I thought about waiting for her, but first I'd do some snooping. Seeing the framed picture of Stephanie and her Latin lover caused my anger to boil over again. I threw the picture on the floor and ground my heel into it. There were several other pictures similar to that one and I repeated the action with each fucking one. As I stalked through each room, flinging her precious knickknacks to the floor, all I could think of was how could she afford such a nice place? On my cop's salary, I'd never be able to afford anything this high class. Instead, I was stuck with that dump of a house my aunt left me.

I looked in the garage and saw her car, that silver Porsche, dammit, was still there. Where was she? I didn't have the time or patience to go looking all over New Jersey for the bitch.

I returned to the house to find I was no longer alone.

Before I could even draw my weapon, the same four thugs that had jumped me last Friday night took me down. How had they known I was here? They cuffed me with my own handcuffs and then forced me from the premises and into the passenger side of my truck. One of the thugs drove my truck back to my place, while two of the others followed. One remained behind at Steph's.

Once we got to the house, they tossed my clothes and personal effects into a duffel bag and some boxes and threw everything into the back of my truck. They thought they were being polite by asking me what else I wanted to pack for my move to Montana. All I could do was sit there, my hands cuffed behind my back, and hurl insults at them.

Then they escorted me in my own fucking truck to the New Jersey/Pennsylvania border. They let me know, with words and punches, that if they found me back in New Jersey, I was a dead man. Damn, I wanted to blow their brains out, but it was three against one and they had my handgun. I decided the wisest course of action was to head west.

I would have to wait for payback.

. . .

Diego looked around Stephanie's living room, dismayed with the broken glass ground into the lush carpet. He picked up the larger pieces and found her vacuum cleaner in the hall closet and proceeded to thoroughly go over the entire carpet. The frames were badly bent and too damaged, so he made note of the size and style. Stephanie would have to replace the ruined pictures, but he would make sure the frames and glass were replaced before Stephanie returned from her trip.

He also removed the cameras he'd installed a few weeks ago. He noticed the camera wire in the garage had been covered in tape. Diego blew out a breath, thinking to himself he must have used the wrong type of wire and it had caused some interference with the electrical system or the garage door opener. He made a mental note to do some research on the subject so if he ever had to do something like this again, the problem could be avoided.

Diego still had to straighten up the mess Joe had wreaked throughout the other rooms, but he called Mateo to let him know what had happened. He also asked him to explain things to Stephanie when she got back; she needed to know how dangerous Morelli could be. Diego told Mateo that his three friends would 'assist' Joe Morelli in packing his things and departing New Jersey. They would continue to monitor things, at least until their Army buddy in Montana reported Morelli's arrival.

A short time later, Stephanie's front door opened and a man whistled. Frank Plum entered his daughter's home and called out to Blackie. There was no response. He was in the house for quite a while before coming out the front door and beginning a door to door neighborhood search for his daughter's little black dog. It was late afternoon when he returned to the townhouse, empty-handed.

Frank was standing on Steph's front porch when a woman across the street approached him and asked if he was looking for someone. He introduced himself to Steph's neighbor, Bernadette Disher, and explained he was supposed to pick up his daughter's dog for an appointment with the veterinarian. That's when Bernadette broke out in a smile. She invited Frank into her home and there was Blackie in the living room perched comfortably on his own cushion. She told Frank she'd found Blackie digging in her front garden bed and recognized him as Stephanie's new animal companion. She knew Steph had just left for a trip overseas, so she thought she'd keep him safely with her until Stephanie returned.

Frank thanked her and tucked Blackie under his arm. As the two of them neared Frank's Buick, Frank chucked Blackie under his chin and said, "Well, little guy… you've had a harrowing day wandering the 'wilds' of Bel Aire. It's too late to take you in for your appointment so you escaped the knife today. Let's go home. Maybe we can talk Stephanie into giving you a permanent reprieve after she gets back."

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12 Chapter 96

**CHAPTER 96**

_Stephanie's POV_

As soon as I disembarked from the plane at Heathrow Airport and passed through customs, I saw a man in black standing off to the side of the crush of people who were waiting to greet arriving friends and loved ones. At first glance, my heart started pounding because I could swear I was looking at Carlos. I closed my eyes for a minute and then looked again at the man. My heart slowed back to normal. The man was tall and dark-skinned, but he certainly wasn't my fiancé. Could jet lag affect me this quickly? Maybe I was just tired and really missing Carlos.

The man was dressed in a typical black chauffeur's uniform and was holding up a sign with my name on it. I approached him and introduced myself. He was polite and professional and took my luggage from me. We made our way through the maze of corridors and out to his waiting cab, a large black oversized vehicle. It was cold and wet outside, but warm in the cab. I sank into the back seat and dozed off before we even left the airport. The cab driver had to shake me awake when we arrived at the hotel I'd be staying at during my visit.

The transatlantic flight from New York to London had only taken five hours, but I was exhausted after two long days of shopping and sightseeing in New York with Tina. It was past midnight my time, but here in London it was 5 a.m. Friday morning. I was glad I could get a few hours of sleep before I had the pressure of meeting the management staff at Harrods.

I looked around the beautiful suite Harrods had provided for me. They had spared no expense to make me feel welcome and pampered, but all I wanted was to crawl into bed, so I did. And I crawled into heaven!

I reveled in the softness of the sheets and pillowcases. I couldn't help stretching out and rubbing my body over the luxurious bed linens. Who knew quality sheets could make such a difference? I had to get me a set of these, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep.

My first day in London started all too soon when the ringing phone woke me at 9 a.m. – London time, that is; it was only 4 a.m. Jersey time. The voice on the phone introduced herself as Nicky Hill, the personal assistant assigned to me by Harrods during my stay in London. I could get used to all this pampering. She was calling to let me know the PR department had scheduled a tour of the local Harrods store at 11 a.m. And then she asked if she could have some breakfast sent up to my room? Could she ever!

I reluctantly dragged myself out of that heavenly bed and quickly showered and tamed my hair into submission before putting on my face. I chose to wear the outfit Tina had insisted I buy, a subdued red wool jacket with ruffled lapels and a matching knee-length pencil skirt. The suit looked great, especially after I added a wide black leather belt cinched high on the waist. I kept my look conservative with 3-inch black heels and a pair of mid-length black leather gloves. Of course, I had on my favorite matching _Babe!_ black bra and panties, and a black lace chemise that just peeked out the top of the jacket. The suit hugged my curves and I felt very chic!

Breakfast was scrumptious. The Brits sure knew how to enjoy their fried eggs, bacon, sausage and potatoes. I wasn't expecting the mushrooms or sliced tomatoes; they made the fried meal seem a bit healthier. Just as I sipped the last of my tea there was a tap on my door.

I opened the door to a young woman dressed in a drab brown suit. She had dark blonde hair slicked back into a tight bun and a serious expression dominated her face. In her hands was an Apple laptop. She looked the epitome of efficiency.

"Morning, Ms. Plum. I'm Nicky Hill, your personal assistant."

We shook hands and I invited her in, "Please call me Stephanie or Steph. And may I call you Nicky?"

She nodded once and glanced around the suite taking in the impressive décor and said, "I trust you slept well, the few hours you had, that is."

"I slept amazingly well on those fabulous sheets. If you can find out where I can purchase a set of them, I would love it."

Nicky strode over to the bed and felt the linens, checking the label. She turned back to me and said, "These are Harrods special order 1500 thread count sheets. They're popular for commercial lodging establishments because of their long lasting wear as well as for their luxurious feel. They are available in white and ivory."

She knew her stuff. "I'll take one of each," I exclaimed. "They make you feel like you're floating on a cloud of cotton candy. _Ooh, cotton candy_…" I clapped my hands and grinned, "these sheets would be great in pink and blue as well."

"I'll make a note of that," Nicky said, opening her laptop and tapping on the keyboard for a few seconds. She looked back at me. "You have a full day of activities on your schedule… Stephanie. There is a car waiting downstairs to take us to Harrods, if you're ready." It tickled me to hear her pronounce it "chezule" in her noticeable English accent.

Giving us a hearty "Good Morning" as we left the hotel, the doorman ushered us to the Bentley that was to be my transportation while in London. Talk about being pampered, I felt like royalty. The uniformed chauffeur opened the back door for me and as I smiled up at him, I nearly fainted. _It was Carlos!_ I stumbled backward with my arm outstretched and he caught my hand preventing me from falling on my ass.

"Miss, are you all right?" he inquired politely. His voice with its thick English accent was definitely not my Carlos' deep resonant baritone. I shook my head and looked at him again. Definitely not Carlos. He wasn't even dark-skinned. Under the shadow cast by his chauffeur's cap, he was blond and blue-eyed. _Was I going crazy?_ These 'mirages' I was having about Carlos had to be an effect of jet lag and too little sleep? Or maybe just wishful thinking?

"I'm fine, thank you," I replied, shakily pulling my hand away and quickly sliding into the back seat of my opulent ride. Nicky got in beside me, looking at me a little oddly.

It only took a few minutes to reach the grand structure that was the London Harrods department store, if it could be called something as simple as a department store. The building was enormous, occupying an entire city block and it was six or seven stories high. The curved dark green awnings that arched over the street level windows provided a wonderful place to wait out the frequent rain while enjoying window shopping in the dozens of creatively decorated windows.

Nicky and I were greeted at the main entrance by a welcoming party made up of Harrods' management and PR staff. After a rushed round of introductions with names like Archibald, Barnaby, Clive, Georgiana, Lucy, Reginald and Samantha, my head was swimming. I couldn't seem to retain any new information. Maybe I should have arranged to arrive a full day before any scheduled meetings so I could get over my jet lag.

The lively group spent the next two hours guiding me through the 300 departments at Harrods explaining their management and marketing philosophies as we walked down one impressive aisle after another. The store was magnificently decorated and filled with thousands and thousands of beautiful things. I could spend a week in here and not see everything. The one thing I was told by the management team that all Harrods visitors _had_ to see was the Dodi Al Fayed and Princess Diana memorial. After paying our 'respects' we continued the tour of the lavishly decorated store.

We walked by the children's toy department with all its Christmas decorations. There was even a 'North Pole' setting complete with fluffy fake snow, life-sized stuffed reindeer and a horde of green-clad 'elves' herding lines of excited children toward Santa's house. I glanced up at Santa – or as Nicky whispered to me, 'Father Christmas' – sitting on a golden throne and did a double take. Underneath the fake white beard I saw Carlos' face, his chocolate brown eyes staring directly at me. And then he winked at me!

Shocked, I took a step back and stumbled into the arms of the tallest, most muscular 'elf' I'd ever seen. Despite the fact that he was dressed head to toe in green flannel, I had to look twice at him to make sure _he _wasn't my Cuban lover. Why did every other man I see remind me of Carlos?

With an unexpectedly deep voice, the elf quipped, "Most little lasses want to sit on Santa's lap, but I'm certainly not complaining you fell into mine. Why don't you tell me what you want for Christmas and I'll be happy to be the one to fill your Christmas stockings or… _anything else you want filled_." The suggestive tone of his voice and leering look he gave me took all the joyous spirit out of my festive mood. He kept hold of my hand and, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, asked, "Have you been naughty or nice? Something tells me you lean to the naughty side…"

I snatched my hand from his and retorted, "Something tells _me_ if you checked Santa's list, you'd find _your own name_ on the top of the naughty list. And the only stockings you'll be touching will be your own and they'll be filled with coal."

When Tina had joked about gorgeous foreign men fawning over me, I hadn't pictured a pointy-eared, pointy-toed wolf in elves' clothing. As I fled the flirting elf and the throng of noisy children, I looked back at Father Christmas on his throne and saw only a jolly old man in a red and white suit—not Carlos. Walking briskly, I rejoined my group on our tour of Harrods, afraid to look any one else in the face for fear of seeing Carlos again.

When we arrived in the lingerie department, I stopped dead in my tracks with my mouth hanging open. There was a HUGE section devoted to the _Babe!_ line complete with artfully hung life-sized _'Are you a Babe?'_ posters featuring our array of everyday models. I was pleased to see our colorful lingerie displayed on a diverse range of mannequins, from small to plus size and also mannequins representing all skin colors. London had become a truly cosmopolitan melting pot of nationalities and Harrods was seriously ready to embrace the _Babe!_ International line.

"This is fantastic!" I gushed unabashedly. "I love how you've matched the ethnic mannequins perfectly with our posters. And with a little rearranging of the bra and panties sets and camisoles, you could have the beginnings of an international theme by color."

Barnaby gave me a quizzical look and then whispered something to one of his associates and there was a flurry of movement among the team. In just a few minutes, they had rearranged the lingerie in clustered sets of red, white and blue, and blue and white, and red, white and green – all representing different countries' flags.

Barnaby had a satisfied look as he saw the smile spread across my face. "Your pants designs inspire creativity," he said. "We'll refine the international theme later, but is this what you were thinking of?"

"That's it exactly!" I replied, but I wondered why he thought I designed slacks and trousers, so I clarified, "I don't design pants, I design underwear."

Barnaby laughed and the others chuckled behind their hands. He explained, "We Brits use the word 'pants' instead of your American term of 'panties'. We also call them 'knickers'. During your stay here, you may come across other words we use in a different context than you do."

_Aha!_ I guess I needed to brush up on British expressions. Maybe Nicky could help me with that so I didn't make a fool of myself during my interviews.

As a group we discussed several other display ideas and then a thought hit me. I selected one of our baby doll pajama sets in a luxurious ivory satin material and held it up in front of me.

"What would you say if we 'bundled' some of the _Babe!_ pajamas and lingerie with Harrods' luxury sheet sets for a Valentine's Day marketing campaign?" I suggested. "We could tag it with something like "_Sleep like a Babe_" and market it to husbands who like to give practical presents as well as something a little sexier to their wives."

Nicky, who'd earlier grabbed a package of the ivory sheets I'd wanted when we strolled by the bed and bath department, passed the bed linens to me. I held up both while striking what I hoped was a sexy pose and in a husky voice, repeated, "_Sleep like a Babe_ with Harrods luxury sheets and _Babe!_ lingerie."

Barnaby's face had an intense look and his forehead wrinkled as he took in my little act. He seemed to be the one in charge of today's meeting so I focused my efforts on him. "We could start here in London and then continue the ad campaign in Europe and America. Our baby dolls come in ivory, white, pink and blue. If we had matching sheet sets in the 1500 thread count, I think they would be a smash hit for Valentine's Day. What do you think?"

He took his time responding while the others glanced back and forth between us, silent but anxious. His lips pursed, his head began to nod, and finally a smile creased his face. "I like it," he said. The rest of the group began nodding and offering additional ideas.

I couldn't wait to call Dawson and tell him the good news. Knowing him, by the time I returned home on Sunday he would have the new campaign started for our Valentine's Day push 'in the colonies,' as Barnaby teasingly called the United States.

Lunch was to be a working meeting with the Harrods crowd. Barnaby led me into the Harrods food hall and my jaw dropped. The place was enormous and there was every type of food conceivable filling every shelf, counter, table and booth. It was the granddaddy of all food courts. I swear a little drool leaked out of my mouth as I took in the sights and smells of all that scrumptious food. The only thing I refused to try was the Morelli's Gelato booth. As much I loved Italian gelato, I just couldn't bring myself to eat anything named _Morelli_.

After lunch, Nicky informed me I had only one interview and that was with the Harrods PR department. Then the rest of the afternoon I could relax and enjoy a tour of some of London's hot spots. I breathed a sigh of relief that no additional interviews were scheduled until tomorrow because I was seriously exhausted and suffering from a bad case of jet lag and _Carlos-itis_. The stress of this trip was making me miss my Superman even more than I normally did. No wonder I was seeing him everywhere I went.

After my interview, which was actually quite fun, I followed Nicky back out to the Bentley and our tour of London began. She explained we wouldn't have time to get out of the vehicle to see each attraction, and I was given my choice of where to spend my limited time.

So, from the back of the Bentley, with a glass of champagne in my hand, I saw Westminster Abby, St. Paul's Cathedral, Big Ben or Clock Tower and the Houses of Parliament or Palace of Westminster. We did get out for a few minutes to stretch our legs at Trafalgar Square. I enjoyed Nicky's running commentary on the grand sites we saw especially as she injected amusing stories about many of the historic characters associated with each of the places.

After we crossed over the River Thames on Westminster Bridge, I simply couldn't resist taking a ride on the fabulous London Eye where Nicky proceeded to point out many other attractions visible from the incredible bird's eye view the enormous ferris wheel-like structure provided. And then it was back to the Bentley and more driving.

As we drove past St. James Park, I downed my fourth glass of champagne. Next on our tour list was Buckingham Palace. I asked if we could stop, so our chauffeur let Nicky and I out to get a closer look at the Palace and the Queen's Guard.

I had to admit the entrance to Buckingham Palace was impressive. Nicky was trying to give me the history of the area and significant events, but I was more interested in the amazing uniforms of the men guarding the building and the grounds. There were four guards standing at attention at the front gate, so prim and proper. Nicky informed me that four guards meant the Queen was in residence, otherwise there would only be two guards. She continued to drone on about the noble history of the Queen's Guard, but I was oblivious to her lecture. Admittedly, I had a slight buzz from the bubbly I'd been drinking all afternoon.

Plus, I was fascinated by the tall hats the guards wore. The black bearskin caps looked nearly two feet high and the guards' red jackets matched my red suit. I really wanted to try on one of those amazing fluffy looking hats. I got as close as I could and took another look at the 'royal' soldiers. _Soldiers!_

_Omigod!_ They all looked like Carlos! I shook my head and stared again at each one. Now, only the soldier closest to me looked like my lover, but the resemblance was so strong I felt a surge of hormones – or maybe it was the champagne – rush through me, and all logic and reason deserted me.

I strode over to the gate and stood in front of him, staring into his deep brown eyes, but he looked right through me. I wanted to kiss those full sensuous lips and run my hands over that smooth mocha latte colored skin. But he paid no attention me, refusing to make eye contact or acknowledge me in any way. We'd see about that! Just being this close to Carlos was intoxicating; there was no way I was going to let him ignore me. And I knew just how to get my Cuban lover's attention.

With a sly smile, I sunk to my knees in front of him and let my hands slip underneath his long red jacket, coming to rest on the waistband of his black wool pants – _and these were pants in the American sense of the word_. I found the row of buttons that closed the trousers and slowly proceeded to unbutton them, one by one. Carlos stood stock still, ever the perfect soldier, standing so silent and strong as he steadfastly adhered to the orders of his mission.

I took it as a personal challenge to put a smile on his stoic face and I knew what I needed to do to accomplish my own mission. Sliding my fingers into the now gaping trousers, I found what I was searching for and it was just as I remembered. Hard, long and pulsating with his maleness, I brought his firm length out into the light of day and wrapped both hands around it. Still no response from my soldier lover.

Dipping my head, I took him into my mouth, licking and sucking the head lightly at first. I looked up at him and STILL no reaction on his blank face. Damn! He was really going to make me work for it. Bobbing up and down I took as much of him as I could into my mouth and throat, sucking and tonguing his hardness until I felt him tighten up. I cut my eyes back up to his… and finally saw it. The hint of a smile, just the barest trace. Just a few seconds more and I knew I'd get the reaction I desired from him…

And then I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a concerned voice calling my name, over and over. That disembodied hand gave my shoulder a rough shake and Carlos disappeared right before my eyes. _NO!_

Nicky stood before me, looking at me with furrowed brows and she kept repeating my name, getting louder with each repetition. "Stephanie! Stephanie! Ms. Plum! Are you alright? Is there a problem?"

I glanced around me and realized I was still standing on one side of the fence and the guards were all standing at attention on the other side. _Omigod!_ _What a vivid daydream!_ It had seemed so real. I could almost smell Carlos. _Damn!_ If I didn't get a good night's sleep soon, I just might go crazy.

I reassured Nicky that I was fine, just a little tired. She cut the tour short and bundled me back into the Bentley and gave the chauffeur (who no longer looked like Carlos) orders to return to my hotel.

Feeling the jet-lagged exhaustion seep into my body, I stared out the window as we battled traffic jam after traffic jam along the crowded London streets. The frequent 'stop and go' pace allowed me to watch the other commuters and pedestrians.

I continued to see Carlos everywhere. He was the driver of the red double-decker bus we passed, the bobby dressed all in black standing on the street corner, the tall man dressed in the plaid kilt walking down the street, and he was the smudged face peering out from under the black cap of the chimney sweep that dominated an advertisement on a white panel van that turned in front of us.

With each sighting, my heart sped up and a slim glimmer of hope shot through me as I desperately wished each man was truly my Carlos. I knew better of course, but I couldn't help myself. I missed him so much and only two months had gone by. How would I survive the next 16 months without him? I slumped back into the plush leather cushions, feeling lonely as hell.

We were only a couple of blocks away from my hotel when something familiar popped into my line of sight. Something that reminded me of home and comfort – and Carlos. I yelled out to our driver to turn right, but he just glanced back to me and then to Nicky. I tugged on Nicky's sleeve and excitedly pointed ahead and begged her to make one last stop. She looked where I was pointing and gave me a doubtful stare, but instructed the driver to turn where I'd indicated.

As we passed by the familiar golden arches, my tummy gave a happy little growl. The Bentley pulled up to the drive-thru window and a pimply-faced boy stuck his head out the window, staring in awe at the half-million dollar car in front of him.

"I'll have a Quarter Pounder with cheese, fries and a chocolate shake. Super-size the fries… and add an apple pie, please. Does anyone else want anything?" I asked, looking at Nicky and our chauffeur. As I started digging around in my purse for some money, I realized I only had American dollars. I held out a twenty, with my face wrinkled up in question.

Nicky put her hand on my arm and said, "This one's on me." I _loved_ having a personal assistant. She called out my order to the young man, "A Quarter Pounder with cheese, large order of chips and a chocolate milkshake."

_Chips?_ That must be another one of those British expressions. Jerking my head out the window, I blurted out, "And an apple pie, please!"

As we waited for my order, Nicky told me that starting early Saturday morning there was to be a press conference for the British and European fashion magazines such as Look, Iconique and Glamour and the 'foreign' versions of Vogue, InStyle, Marie Claire and Elle. Barnaby and I would share the 'hot seat' and the Q&A session. Taking a cue from our first press conference in the States, Harrods was sponsoring a fashion show highlighting the _Babe!_ International line, mainly to serve as a photo op for the print and TV media. And in the afternoon, I would have several live television interviews. My palms were already starting to sweat.

We pulled up in front of my hotel and the doorman, another Carlos lookalike, opened the back door and tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile as I climbed out clutching my McDonald's bag to my chest. I also got a lot of funny looks as I walked through the lobby of the elegant ritzy hotel swinging the same very recognizable paper bag, but I was one happy girl inhaling the pungent odor of fried hamburger and those delicious salty French fries, _or chips, I should say_. I made it to my room and shrugged out of my beautiful red jacket and heels before sprawling across the bed and digging into my feast.

The first bite of my cheeseburger reminded me of Carlos and our weekend together when we made that 'deal.'

"_You drive a hard bargain, Superman."_

_Carlos nodded, "To have to go out and get McDonald's is bad enough; to have to do it in a POS car is beyond the pale. Two blow jobs is my minimum. You're getting off easy. If you weren't so sensitive, I'd have held firm with the butt stuff. But since I'm a good guy-"_

"_You are, at that. I promise, I'll make them both extra long and extra enjoyable," I promised. "Just feed me and I'll have the energy to do a great job for you. How about that? Quarter Pounder with cheese. Super size fries and a chocolate shake. __And an apple pie."_

"_Naturally. Anything else?"_

"_A kiss?"_

That October night we both got our heart's desire. Right now, I would give anything to have my Carlos here with me in this hotel room so I could make him the happiest man alive, which in turn would make me happy. But tonight I would have to settle for making my tummy happy. I crammed the last handful of 'chips' into my mouth and sank back onto the bed, letting my mind wander.

I stood in front of an enormous castle. Standing between the castle and me were a line of faceless guards dressed in red jackets and black pants, with tall black fur hats anchored to their heads by a white chin strap. I moved closer and the men all turned in unison to face me, holding their bayonets firmly against their right shoulders. The guard on the right end, with two white chevrons on his sleeve, barked out a command. Each man lowered his rifle and then laid it on the ground in front of him.

Another brisk command was issued and a sultry tune began to play. One after another, the ramrod straight men began to move their hips to the beat of the music. I watched in fascination as the guards slowly began to unbutton the double row of white buttons down the front of their red jackets, all the while swaying and swiveling their hips to sexy striptease music. In a simultaneous move, they all ripped off their white belts and tossed them high into the air as the music increased in tempo.

I squinted my eyes trying to see any facial features, but each man's face was still blurry and unrecognizable. The red jackets were the next to go and the white cotton shirts underneath soon followed, exposing the naked torso of each man. With one quick movement, each man grabbed his black trousers and whipped them off in one clean tear away, leaving the men standing in front of me dressed only in their black boots and bearskin caps. They were all commando!

My hungry eyes raked down the line of naked men, but I was sorely disappointed, even revolted by what I saw. I stared down a row of male bodies with pasty, pudgy skin sagging on droopy shoulders and wide spare tire-rimmed hips. I gasped as their faces came into focus – they were all Drew Carey look-alikes. As for their _man parts_… they were equally disappointing in size, appearance and even hardness. Overall, very sad packages as my Grandma Mazur would say.

Until…

The last man came into view. Now, this was a fine male specimen with broad shoulders, narrow hips and an eight-pack torso. His biceps were thicker than my thighs and his thighs rippled with muscles. As for his man parts… I was definitely not disappointed. I slowly dragged my eyes up his bare body to his face nearly hidden under the huge bearskin cap and I gasped, again. But this time my shock was one of pure pleasure… and recognition.

_It was Carlos!_ He looked magnificent, even imperious with that black fur hat covering his silky hair. I could see his chiseled face, with his high cheekbones, straight nose and hard-edged jaw. His beautiful eyes were molten chocolate smoldering with desire. Full sensuous lips that turned up ever so slightly at the corners made me ache to kiss them. His dark skin gleamed with health and vigor and every inch, _let me repeat that_… every single inch of him was firm and toned. My eyes greedily followed his rippling abs and defined hip muscles that angled in and down toward his... package! _Perfection!_ Hard massive perfection. Just thinking of what that… hard perfection could do to my lust-filled body nearly sent me over the edge.

My attention was focused solely on Carlos, but I was still vaguely aware when the sad and sorry 'Drew Carey' men faded away into nothingness. Then it was just Carlos and me.

I hadn't been able to complete my seduction of my soldier lover earlier and I wasn't about to let this new opportunity escape me. I dropped to my knees in front of this mocha-latte Cuban God and ran my trembling hands up his smooth hard thighs.

Leaning in, I darted my tongue out and traced the ridge along the underside of his erection. My hands had a mind of their own and soon they were wrapped around his hard length stroking and massaging as my lips closed around the silky smooth head. Carlos let out a low moan and I felt his fingers rifle through my hair as I bobbed up and down sucking him deeper and deeper into my mouth. His manly scent drove me wild with desire and I had to taste more of him. With a guttural groan, I heard him utter "Babe" as he exploded in my mouth.

I was in heaven because I knew soon this magnificent cock would be buried deep inside me, giving me such pleasure, I would be out of my mind with the sweet sensations.

A part of me knew this was just a dream; I didn't care and I never wanted to wake up.

But I did. Morning came all too soon, but not before I'd cum many times. It was the first time in my life I was aware that I'd orgasmed in my sleep. Carlos was one powerful lover to make me cum even when he was thousands of miles away.

I sighed… and crawled out of bed to get ready for my international television debut.

_AN: A special thanks to one of our English Babes, Tia Bella, who offered some ideas of what Stephanie might see during her tour of London. She also mentioned some differences in what Brits and Americans call certain things, like 'knickers' for panties. So, what do you think, a new lingerie line called "Babe Knickers?"_

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 13 Chapter 97

**CHAPTER 97**

_Rosa's POV_

The situation with my foolish son and his angry wife was getting out of hand!

This morning, Father Brady called and begged me to intercede in their troubled marriage. He said Ricardo was driving him… well, there is no other word for it… Ricardo was driving him _loco_. Our normally good-natured Padre was beside himself with frustration as he related that my nearly hysterical son was stopping by the rectory early every morning and crying on his shoulder for hours at a time. Obviously, my whiny son wasn't adjusting well to his new solitary lifestyle.

It had been two weeks to the day since Teresa had moved out of their home. It had been nearly three weeks since she had relegated my son to sleeping in another bedroom because of his lies and the way he had treated my Carlito the night before he was to leave on his dangerous mission. Ricardo had never really lived alone, and in the past two weeks he had proven that he was not capable of fending for himself for more than a few days. Men could be such babies!

But not my Dawson. No, not him. Although he has been self sufficient for a long time, he embraced me moving into his lovely home… our home, now. And while I offered to cook and clean for him, he said we could share those duties, as he was very used to doing them for himself. He said having a partner in life to share the daily chores with would be a welcome change. During the day, Dawson concentrated on managing all the exciting changes taking place in his business and I stayed busy planning our wedding and decorating our home. We continued to go out to dinner a few nights a week, but on the nights we stayed in, we prepared dinner together and discussed our day and our future plans as a soon-to-be married couple.

My budding relationship with Dawson was all quite thrilling and so very different from my first marriage. ¡Bendiga a San Valentin, el Santo de Amor! [_Bless Saint Valentine, the Saint of Love!_] Love made all the difference. Love and respect! I could not believe I had found such a wonderful man at this stage in my life. A passage from the Bible, from the Book of Ecclesiates, came to mind… I took note of the pieces that called to me.

_To everything there is a season_

_A time for every purpose under the sun…_

_A time to laugh…_

_A time to dance…_

_A time to embrace…_

_A time to love…_

_A time for peace._

It was my time for love, at long last. And it was time my family found peace. With a deep sigh, I pulled on my winter coat. It was nippy this morning and with just a few days until Christmas, everyone was hoping for snow. As I walked out the front door of our home, Pedro was just pulling into the driveway. Making the deal with Pedro had been one of my better ideas; he was such a patient obedient boy.

"Good morning, Pedro. Today, I must pay a long overdue visit to my daughter-in-law Teresa. She is staying with her sister Carmen. Do you remember where Carmen lives?"

Pedro nodded and backed the car out onto the quiet street that was in front of my new home with my novio. It wasn't too long before he pulled the car into Carmen's driveway. I requested him to return in two hours. That should give me enough time to say what I had come to say.

"Rosa, how nice of you to visit," Carmen greeted me with a warm embrace as she ushered me in the front door. "I feel like I'm surrounded by celebrities. All my friends and neighbors are abuzz about me knowing two of the _Babe!_ 'supermodels.' How are you handling your newfound fame?"

I could not help but smile as I shared with Carmen the flattering comments of my 'fans.' People were still coming up to me in the grocery store and the bakery and telling me how wonderful I looked in the _Babe!_ ads and what an inspiration I was to 'mature' women everywhere. I still felt a little wicked when I looked at my picture in those glamorous fashion magazines.

We passed through the living room and Carmen whispered, "Teresa could use a supportive word. She's still furious at Ricardo, but she is homesick. I'm not sure if it's just for her own home and things, or if HE also factors into it." Her lips pressed tightly together before she blurted, "That thoughtless, self-righteous, controlling man makes me so mad!"

A burst of laughter escaped my lips before I could control it. She took the words right out of my mouth. My son seemed to provoke that reaction in those closest to him.

I entered the kitchen where Teresa was standing at the sink doing the morning's dishes. Turning to see who had come in, Teresa smiled at me and dried her hands on a dishcloth.

"Mama Rosa, it is so good to see you," she exclaimed and gave me a warm hug.

When she pulled away, I could see tears filling her eyes. Pobrecita! She was still hurting, though whether from my son's unkind words or the lonely situation she found herself in, I could not tell. Either way, it was time for all this nonsense to stop. What I was about to say to my daughter-in-law might sound callous, but I knew her well and knew what it took to provoke her to action.

"Are you enjoying your vacation, Teresa?" I asked, not attempting to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"_VACATION?_" she cried. "What vacation? How can you say that to me? _I'm miserable_, being forced to leave my home and everything that is dear to me. I'm just lucky I have an understanding sister who is able to shelter me in my time of need, just as she provided a home for Carlos when he couldn't go home."

"So, you are saying your situation is the same as our Carlito's when his grandfather and father _banished him_ from his own home?"

Teresa pursed her lips. "Of course not. I'm an adult and I chose to leave." She turned back to the sink and began furiously wiping down the counter, continuing her rant. "But it was really the only choice I was left with. If I'd stayed with Ricardo that night, I'm afraid I might have done injury to him." She suddenly slapped the sink's edge with the cloth and then whirled around to face both Carmen and myself. "He _shamed_ me and then disrespected me. It was all about him. _It's always all about him_." Her anger from that awful night was still very evident in her voice and in her posture.

"True. My son is very self-centered; this is nothing new. His level of rudeness and his crass insinuations the night of the party were unforgivable, though." I seated myself at the kitchen table and Teresa joined me. "I understand why you refused to return home that night, Teresa, but by staying away for so long, you give him all the power. You are letting him continue to control you and your actions."

Teresa's eyes widened at my last statement. Her response was interrupted by Carmen placing cups of hot coffee in front of us. We took a few minutes to stir cream and sugar into our coffee before resuming our talk. I sat back and waited, blowing lightly across the rim of my cup to cool down the steaming brew.

Teresa finally composed herself enough to answer my charge. "You're right. I do feel he is running me out of my home. It is MY home too, after all."

She took a sip from her cup and looked around the kitchen, Carmen's kitchen. "I miss it… I miss my home, I miss MY kitchen, my things… and…" A lopsided smile tugged at the left corner of her mouth, "… as much as it galls me to say it, I miss my husband as well. I know he can be a pompous…" she shot me a quick look and her lips twisted into a wicked grin, "…_ass_. But he's _my_ pompous ass. And I still love him." She sat back in her chair, shoulders slumped, with a defeated look on her face.

"Hermana, are you just going to forget everything that jerk said and let him get away with treating you so badly?" Carmen asked, her voice getting louder with each word.

"No, certainly not!" Teresa cried. "Ricardo needs to learn that he can't treat me like he did. I will not tolerate that kind of behavior anymore. If I go home, things are going to be different. I am my own person and if I want to be a fashion model or get some other job, I will do so." She straightened her back and lifted her head, a fierce glint in her eyes.

I was pleased to see my daughter-in-law's determination to stand up for herself. I decided to share a bit of the information that Father Brady had confided to me. He had not revealed any details, but he had let me know Ricardo had agreed to make amends to his family through a series of Acts of Penance. I could only imagine what they might involve. It might even be worth returning to my son and daughter-in-law's home to witness my son's acts of contrition. Then again, maybe not!

"I have it on good authority that Ricardo has expressed remorse and plans to make amends to you when you return home. If I were you, I would…_how do they say?_ …_milk it_ _for all it is worth_," I advised my daughter-in-law.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Teresa huffed. "Ricardo's pride is legendary. I can't imagine him humbling himself, even if The Pope himself demanded it."

"But you have decided to return home?" I asked, hoping the answer was yes.

Teresa nodded but added, "It's my home, too, and I long for my own things around me, but I won't put up with any more of my husband's insufferable behavior. There must be changes. And he _will_ apologize to me. A true apology, none of this backhanded pap he can dish out."

Finally, Teresa was going to stand up to my self-righteous son. It was about time, not that I ever stood up to my husband. In our culture, it is ingrained in all of us, men and women alike, that the man is the master and the woman must be obedient. It is also part of our 'modern' culture that women can yell and rage at their husbands, but in the end, they still must be obedient. Ingrained behaviors are hard to change. I was pleased to see Teresa 'come into her own' and believe in her own worth. It had taken me much longer to take that step.

Carmen and I talked as Teresa went to pack her things. I smiled, "If I could be a little mouse hiding in the corner, I would love to watch the show that is about to unfold in my former home. But I am not as forgiving as Teresa. I will not set foot in that house again. Not until I see real change and genuine remorse in my son, and that includes his attitude and treatment of Carlos."

Carmen replied, "Don't hold your breath, Rosa. Your son epitomizes some of the worst of our Latino heritage in his belief that he is lord and master and his family must come to him for every little decision and, of course, they must obey him to the letter, _or else_."

"It is my belief that that particular mindset is not restricted to the Latin culture, but is found in many cultures, unfortunately," I said, thinking of some of my church acquaintances who had shared their marital problems with me as we worked together on a fundraiser for the church's day care program.

I, however, no longer had to worry about any of that. The joy I had in my heart when I thought of my newfound love with Dawson had no comparison to any previous experience in my life. Dawson was very respectful of me and encouraged me to try my wings at anything I desired. For the first time in my life I felt truly liberated and yet, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with this wonderful man who filled my life with happiness and with such an overpowering love, it sometimes scared me.

I called Pedro while Carmen helped Teresa load her things into the car. Teresa was finally returning home. I also was returning home – home for me being my new residence with the handsome and supportive Señor Books.

_Teresa's POV_

Carmen pulled up in the driveway directly behind Ricardo's car. Today was Friday, so it was Alejandro's day to run the kitchen at _Rosa's_, which meant Ricardo was home. I would have preferred to return to our house when my husband was out, but there was no help for it now. If I didn't go home today, I might talk myself out of ever returning.

"He's here. If you want to leave and come back tomorrow when he's at _Rosa's_, just say the word," Carmen said, trying to make my return home as easy as possible for me.

"No, let's get this over with. I won't let him intimidate me any more," I said, trying to keep a steel edge to my voice. Half the battle was convincing myself that I could do this. "I also won't take any _mierda_ from Mr. High and Mighty today." [_excrement, i.e., shit_]

"_Teresa! _I've _never_ heard you use such language. I know you're angry, but…"

"It's more than just me being angry. In the past two weeks, I haven't had to put up with any of Ricardo's criticisms, disapproving looks or demands. I haven't had to endure his condescending ways or his judgments or putdowns of other people. It's actually been a relief not to have to be around his negativity or his pompous self-pronouncements."

"If you still feel that way, then why are you putting yourself back in the middle of it?"

"I know it may be hard for you to understand, Carmen; you've handled being alone so well. After losing Luis, you had to take over both parental roles and you rose to the occasion beautifully. But I'm not as strong as you. And I have loved married life for so long. I love taking care of my husband – at least when he's not being such an ass. And I love having our children and grandchildren come over to the house. I've missed it and… Christmas is almost upon us." I looked up and down the street and saw all the houses decorated with Christmas lights and yards filled with waving Santas, rotund snowmen and prancing reindeer.

"I doubt Ricardo has even _cleaned_ the house, much less decorated it. What will the grandchildren think? They expect a beautiful Christmas tree all lit up with presents underneath. I've been so preoccupied with my own problems, I haven't even done my Christmas shopping. _Or baking_. Carmen, I haven't even begun to bake. The kids _love_ my Christmas cookies and candies. There's so much to do and so little time."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and gathered up my purse and shopping bags filled with clothes and toiletries and opened the car door. Carmen opened her door, but I stopped her. "You don't need to come in with me. In fact, it's better that I do this by myself. I'll call you later today, and thanks… for everything. I don't know what I would have done the past two weeks without you." We hugged each other tightly and my dear sister reminded me to stay strong. I got out of the car and watched as she drove away.

Before I got halfway up the walk, the front door opened and Ricardo rushed out, crying my name. "Teresa, mi amante, mi Querida. _You are home?_ To stay? _Please_, tell me you have come back to me." He rushed up and wrapped his arms around me, crushing my things between us.

"Ricardo, please. You're crushing everything. Let's go inside." I pushed him away from me and proceeded up the walk. Ricardo tried to take my bags from my arms, but I continued on into the house. And stopped dead in my tracks.

I was hit with an unpleasant odor that smelled of an unappetizing combination of week-old garbage, dirty feet and stale air. Front and center was a jumbled pile of dirty socks on the unvacuumed carpet next to Ricardo's recliner and, on the adjacent side table there was an impressive pyramid of empty beer cans. What looked like two weeks worth of daily newspapers were scattered about the couch and floor. As I progressed farther into my disheveled home, I sadly detected a layer of dust covering all surfaces. Ricardo was babbling on and on about how pleased he was to see me and I finally let him take my things from me.

My shoulders sagged and my heart dropped when I entered my kitchen. I take that back. This was _not_ my kitchen. _My_ kitchen was always clean and neat. This kitchen had a sink filled with dirty dishes and a counter stacked with greasy pots and pans. The normally gleaming stovetop was crusted over with dried and burnt food. You would think a chef, a top-rated chef, would take better care of a kitchen and its utensils. And the floor… it looked like a herd of mud-wallowing pigs had tromped across my once spotless floor.

"Oh, Ricardo, how could you…?" tore from my throat. I hadn't meant for the first words I spoke to my husband after being separated for two whole weeks to be negative ones, but the dismal sight before me was just too much for me to bear.

"Do not worry, my love. I will clean this up." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand around the kitchen. And then he sidled up close to me and tried to put his arms around me. "I have just missed you so much. I have been so worried about you, my dear."

I swatted his hands away and stepped back. "Why would you be worried about me? I've been safely tucked away in my sister's house, a _clean_ house, I might add."

He ignored my pointed comment about the terrible condition he'd let our home fall into and forged ahead with his own agenda. "You have been mostly alone and a woman should not be without the protection of a man. Now that you are home again, _where you belong_, I can take care of you."

I bristled at his insinuation that I needed a man to take care of me. That attitude was not acceptable. I needed to make my point loud and clear, with no room for Ricardo to ignore or dismiss my words. On impulse, I grabbed one of the food-encrusted dinner plates from the crowded sink and threw it at the kitchen wall, where it shattered loudly and messily. Ricardo jumped back, a shocked look on his face. I definitely got my husband's attention.

"_Teresa…_" he began.

"_NO_, Ricardo… it is MY turn to talk," I interrupted him before he could chastise me. "I will tell you this _once_ _and only once_. I do NOT need to be taken care of. Can you understand that? I am a grown woman who can think… and decide for herself." I stared directly into his startled eyes and waited until I knew I had his full attention.

"What I _need_ is to be respected. Without respect for each other, we have no marriage. What you said to me that night in _Rosa's_ was not only hurtful, it was disrespectful. I will not tolerate such behavior from you ever again. There will be no discussion about this." With my hands on my hips, I stood face to face with the man I had lived with and loved for 38 years. Our marriage depended on how he reacted to my next few words.

"Either you respect me as an equal partner, Ricardo, or we're through." I'd never issued a demand before and my heart was nearly pounding out of my chest.

I could hear the air being sucked into his mouth as he leaned backward and gasped. He looked like I had slapped him. We stood staring at each other for several minutes. It felt like an eternity. My entire marriage – my life – was at stake.

Ricardo's eyes glazed over and I could see him turn inward, as if he were remembering something. Something that touched him deeply, but something that also gave him considerable pause. I watched, fascinated, as his eyes closed and he inhaled slowly and, just as slowly, let out a deep breath. It was as if he was steeling himself for a difficult challenge.

He opened his eyes and nodded his head. Then he held out his hand to me, palm up and waited. There was something different about his demeanor. He seemed determined, but quiet, which was not very Ricardo-like.

I looked into my husband's eyes and saw what I hadn't seen in a long time. I saw his love for me. Not his desire for me, but his love. It was the look he gave me _after_ we'd consummated our wedding night. It was the look he gave me as he held Celia in his arms just minutes after she was born. It was the same look he gave me after each of our children was born. I laid my hand in his.

With a deep sigh, he began, "My dearest Teresa, I love you more than I can ever express in words." He bent over and kissed the palm of my hand.

Straightening, he continued, "I have obviously done and said things that made you think I do not respect you. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I never intended to hurt you, but I know I did, my love, and I owe you my deepest apology." He paused for a moment, looking straight into my eyes. "I have thought long and hard about my words to you that night – that Friday night at _Rosa's_. What I said to you was inexcusable. I treated you most unfairly and without the due deference you have most certainly earned." Another pause and a deep breath. "I have been a prideful man, full of self-righteousness and self-importance. You deserve someone better, Querida," he took another deep breath and I felt a light pressure on my hand as he struggled with his emotions, "but I am too selfish to let you go. I love you too much." As we stared into each other's eyes, I saw both pain and love in his.

His voice took on a trembling quality. "I want to be a better man. I want to be a better husband to you… a better father to our children. I don't know if I can ever be the man you deserve, my love… but I will try… every day of my life… to be the man you can be proud of… to be the man you can love as much as I love you."

I wanted to tell him I already loved him as much or more than he loved me in spite of my anger. I wanted to, but I remained silent.

Ricardo wasn't through yet. His voice took on a stronger tone, "If you want to continue your work as a… model, I can live with that. I want you to be happy and I want you to love me again. But before that can happen, I must make amends, amends for all the hurtful things I said to you. I need you to know how sorry I am and how determined I am to repair our marriage." He led me over to the kitchen table and held a chair out for me.

I took my seat and waited. Rosa had alluded to Ricardo expressing remorse for his actions and wanting to make amends. I guess I was about to find out just what that meant.

Ricardo pulled out my Rubbermaid dishpan from underneath the sink and began filling it with water. To my surprise he added some of my favorite bath gel and pulled out one of my best washcloths I usually reserved for the guest bathroom. I noticed my bottle of scented body lotion was on the kitchen table instead of on my bedroom dressing table. _What was going on?_

"Mi esposa," Ricardo said as he knelt before me, placing the dishpan at my feet, "I want you to know how much you mean to me. I want you to know that I am not above doing the menial things you must do everyday as you care for me and our family."

What he did next surprised me. He gently removed my shoes and slowly placed my bare feet in the warm sudsy water, saying, "As Christ washed the feet of his disciples, I wash the feet of my beloved."

My mouth dropped open as he started to rub and massage my feet. Then he looked up at me and quoted scripture, "Jesus said, _'A servant is not greater than his master, nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him.'_ I bow to you, my beloved wife, and wish nothing more than to serve you. I do not expect you to do anything that I would not be willing to do myself."

Did he now expect me to wash _his feet_? Could he possibly be comparing himself to Jesus Christ… or was he just trying to be humble? I hoped for the latter, but given Ricardo's past arrogant behavior, I honestly couldn't tell.

Then he told me about his sessions with Father Brady. He admitted he'd committed the sin of Pride and he regretted the toll his transgressions had had on his family. He explained that Father Brady had assigned him specific Acts of Penance to perform. He looked up at me with a smile, "But this act, this washing of your feet, was _my idea_. It is a humble act even Our Lord Savior did." He seemed so proud of himself, I didn't know how to tell him that his attitude was not exactly in keeping with the meaning behind the act.

Curious, I asked what types of acts our priest had assigned to him. The question seemed to catch Ricardo off guard, but he finally responded, "Father Brady suggested I look for ways to ease your burden. To… how did he say? _'Walk a mile in your shoes!'_ so I would know how difficult a woman's life can be."

Ease my burden? _Walk a mile in my shoes?_ I looked around at my filthy kitchen and at the dirt and grime my husband had tracked across the floor while I'd been gone. I reached out my hand and placed it on his head.

"My dear husband, if you truly mean that, then I would ask that you wash this filthy floor instead of my feet. Where am I to put my newly cleansed feet but upon this dirty floor? It would mean more to me if you would perform this small task that I have done daily in service to my family." I smiled ever so sweetly down on him, but my teeth were clenched tightly to stop myself from saying anymore.

Ricardo stared up at me, his hands stilled. A dawning comprehension flashed across his face and he gave a slight nod. Rising, he looked around the kitchen and then back at me. "Um, my beloved… where do you keep the mop?"

I resisted the urge to swear and thought, a little sarcastically, if my husband was truly channeling Him, it would be unseemly for me to blaspheme. _But really?_ We'd lived in this house for nearly 40 years and I'd mopped these floors daily. How could he not know where I kept the cleaning supplies? I sighed and pointed down the hall to the utility room. While Ricardo was retrieving the mop and bucket, I dumped the water from the dishpan into the sink and rinsed it out.

After a few minutes of watching Ricardo just push the mud around the floor, I knew I had to leave or I would grab the mop out of his hands and do it myself. I picked up my shoes and bags and took them into the bedroom. The bed was unmade and Ricardo's clothes were scattered all over the room. Picking up his chef's tunic, I saw it was badly stained and terribly wrinkled. I wondered if he had even done a load of laundry while I was gone. He certainly hadn't done any ironing.

I glanced in the bathroom and my blood started to boil. Besides the general dirtiness that was obvious everywhere, there were yellow streaks running down the front side of the toilet and a thick sticky mass had accumulated around the base. _How could he not see it? How could he not clean it up?_

I had a feeling these 'amends' my husband was so intent on making to me would require more work for me than I normally would have to do. I sighed again. What was it that Rosa had said? _Milk it for all it was worth?_ Maybe she had something there!

I felt my husband's presence behind me and steeled myself to be calm. Pasting a smile on my face, I turned and said, "It means so much to me that you are trying to make amends for your past actions. If you truly wish to ease my burdens, my dear husband, then I request a humble act from you."

"Anything, my dear. Anything at all," he cooed as he eased his arms around my waist.

I wriggled out from his grasp and pointed my finger at the disgusting residue around the toilet. "I know you are not used to doing household chores, but this is one I have found, since our marriage, that I must do daily or it becomes unmanageable."

I opened the cupboard doors under the sink and pulled out the disinfectant and disposable cloths I normally used. He bent over and peered at the base of the toilet and I saw the color drain from his face. Throughout our marriage, my husband had refused to acknowledge that he or I, or any of our children for that matter, had such gross bodily functions. It offended his sensibilities. Unable to stay in the same room with him and not laugh my head off, I left.

I went out to the living room and cleared off a space on the couch. Putting my feet up, I turned on the TV. This 'amends-thing' might not be so bad after all.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14 Chapter 98

**CHAPTER 98**

_Teresa's POV_

The day was a long one and it was not without trial and tribulation – for both Ricardo and myself. For him to 'walk a mile in my shoes', I had suggested he take on a number of my regular household tasks that would have taken me but a few hours to complete, but took Ricardo the rest of the day and most of the evening to finish. At least, finish to my satisfaction.

He attempted to 'trade' some of the tasks I'd given him and instead suggested that he make me dinner, but I would hear none of it, saying I absolutely could not – would not – interfere in his covenant with God. I left him vacuuming the living room carpet and retreated to my kitchen. However, before I could even begin dinner, I had to wash each surface with bleach and rewash the pots, pans and utensils.

Later that evening, as bedtime neared, I feigned a slight cough and suggested Ricardo sleep in the boys' room, just until I was 'feeling better.' I missed sleeping next to my husband and I missed his amorous love-making, but I was still a little angry at him and not ready to forgive him completely. This 'milking' was helping my anger subside though, and it was fun – _please forgive me, Lord_.

I found a clean pair of his pajamas and took them into the boys' room. I hadn't done much to redecorate the room since Alejandro had moved out years ago, when he married Carolina. Mainly now, just the grandkids used it when they slept over and I did some of my craftwork in there. I turned down one of the beds and laid Ricardo's pajamas on the pillow. The wastebasket was full so I picked it up to empty it. Lying on top was a stiff piece of paper torn from what looked like an artist's sketch pad. On it was a beautiful pencil sketch of a flower – an iris. It was delicately drawn and worthy of framing. Had one of the grandkids done this?

Ricardo stuck his head in the room and when he saw what I was holding, he snatched it from my hands, saying, "Do not bother with that. It is nothing!" And then he crumpled it up, tossing it back in the wastebasket.

"Ricardo, that was a beautiful sketch. Was that yours?" I asked, trying to fathom my practical husband spending his time on what I would have thought he'd consider a frivolous waste of time.

"It was just a doodle… to pass the long evening hours alone," he dismissed my inquiry with a wave of his hand. He took the trashcan from me saying he would empty it and take the trash out to the curb before he turned in for the night.

Puzzled at his odd behavior, I returned to my bedroom and got ready for bed. It would be nice to sleep in my own room and bathe again in my own tub, with my things around me. And knowing Ricardo was just in the next room comforted me.

The next morning was more of the same. I knew Ricardo would be working at _Rosa's_ later that day, but until then, he was mine, all mine. He still seemed eager to make amends and after I had him do the dusting – _twice_, and wash the front picture window (it wasn't all that dirty, but I just couldn't resist), he bravely attempted to do the piles of laundry that had built up in my absence. I made certain none of my garments were in the pile and then I gave him step by step instructions on stain removal and proper loading of the washing machine. He hung in there, bless his heart, and got through several loads without ruining anything. Ironing was another matter altogether, though. He scorched several of his shirts, not to mention his fingers, and could not seem to get the hang of spray starch. I thought back to all his years of picky criticism over my handling of his clothes and that steeled my resolve not to let him off easy, as I was tempted to do.

When the phone rang, I thought of making Ricardo answer it. I was just lounging on the couch idly looking at Christmas catalogs while he did my household chores. I also had him running back and forth between the living room and the kitchen bringing me hot tea – ostensibly to soothe my sore throat – and making me some of his delicious appetizers. I decided making him answer the phone might be pushing it a bit too far.

The call was from Pilar. She'd heard I'd returned home again – she must have talked to her aunt or grandmother – and she expressed her pleasure that I'd made up with her father. Then my outspoken daughter got right to the point. She said she needed to take her eldest son Eduardo to the emergency room and asked if I could watch the younger kids for a few hours. My rambunctious grandson had dislocated his shoulder while playing soccer and was in pain. Pilar did not want to take her two youngest children to the hospital explaining they seemed to pick up any 'bug' that was going around. With a wicked gleam in my eye, I told her I'd be thrilled to have a visit from my grandchildren.

A few minutes later, Pilar pulled up to the house. I went out and joined her as she took baby Hugo from his car seat. I stuck my head in the passenger window and kissed Eduardo on the cheek, sympathizing with his pain. Pilar then handed me Hugo and helped her daughter from her car seat. This precious toddler was my namesake and, while she was a beautiful child, she was also headstrong and extremely independent. I loved her dearly. She was still in diapers and resisting her parents' efforts at potty training. She and her brother were the perfect 'guests' for my plans this morning. With baby Hugo tucked safely on my hip and the diaper bag slung over my shoulder, I took the small hand of little Teresa, or Teri as she was called, and we strolled up the walk as Pilar drove Eduardo to the ER.

Ricardo met us at the front door, exclaiming, "What is this? Why did Pilar just drive away? You shouldn't be caring for our grandchildren with your illness."

I explained the emergency and handed the baby to Ricardo. My husband loved his children and grandchildren, but only in small doses, very small doses. It would be interesting to see how he dealt with these two handfuls of ever-moving bundles of energy.

"You are right, Ricardo," I agreed. "Since I am under the weather, I would hate to have the children catch whatever is bothering me. I relinquish their care into your capable hands."

With that said, I placed Teri's tiny hand in Ricardo's large one and sauntered back over to the couch. As I tucked my blanket around me, I wondered if I was pushing my husband too far. But then, his hurtful words of that awful night came back to me and his angry face, suffused with red, flashed before my eyes. My resolve to stay the course hardened.

Ricardo stood in the doorway with the two children, looking bewildered and a little scared.

"Teresa, this is not a good idea," Ricardo whined. "I have the restaurant tonight and…" He sighed and brought the little ones into the living room.

I coughed lightly, covering my mouth – and my smile – with my hand. Ricardo looked at me with such a look of concern, I almost felt sorry for him, almost. He sighed again and said, "I will call Alejandro and see if he can manage _Rosa's_ today. I will stay home and take care of you and… our grandchildren. It is the _right thing_ to do."

I was shocked. I was only hoping for an hour or so more of Ricardo's time before he had to leave for the restaurant. He'd never let anything interfere with his work at _Rosa's _before. For Ricardo to stay home the rest of the day to care for his grandchildren… _for him to make this concession for me…_

Now, I was the one humbled. The changes I was seeing in him were real, not just token acts so his life would go back to normal. My heart softened and filled with love for my dear husband.

However, if Ricardo thought he'd already walked a full mile in my shoes, he had another thought coming. As he took off the children's winter coats, I pointed to the basket full of toys under the coffee table. Ricardo set Teri and baby Hugo in front of the toy basket and left the room to call Alejandro. The children played happily for a few minutes or so and then Teri took a toy away from Hugo and the screams and waterworks started. From then on out, Ricardo was kept running from one child to the other.

After a mere two hours of chasing after an active toddler and a crawling baby, Ricardo was exhausted. Hugo had finally curled up into a ball under the coffee table and was fast asleep. Ricardo collapsed in his recliner and immediately Teri crawled into his lap.

She snuggled against his chest, looked up at him and said, "I pottied, Papi." Ricardo looked blankly at his granddaughter and then over at me. She repeated her refrain louder, "_I pottied_." She was now fidgeting in his lap and he finally got the message as the unmistakable smell hit his nostrils.

The cost of one diaper: twenty cents. The cost of a couple of baby wipes and a shake of baby powder: maybe five cents. The look on my dear husband's face: _priceless_.

Now, if you ask Ricardo he will proudly tell you that we – he and I, that is – raised six beautiful, healthy children. But the sad fact is Ricardo was rarely home and he never,_ and I mean never_, changed one of the many thousands of diapers his six children went through. And today, he was finally going to walk a few very stinky, messy steps in my shoes.

He held his squirming granddaughter under her arms, moving her off his lap and holding her away from him. He cut his eyes to me and cried, "I can't do this. She's a little _girl_. It would be… improper. _You _have to do it."

"Relax, Ricardo. You're her grandfather. It's nothing you haven't seen before. Even the child's own father changes her when necessary. The diapers and baby wipes are in the bag Pilar left. Just make sure you use the toddler-sized diapers and not the ones for Hugo."

I coughed into my hand a few times and tried to look weak. "You wouldn't want your grandchildren to get sick, would you?" I turned back to watch my telenovela. Well, I only pretended to watch it. The drama happening right now in my living room was much more entertaining.

My little granddaughter started to cry and I almost gave in, but this particular act of Penance was too good to stop. I did take pity on Teri and gave Ricardo some pointers. "There's a plastic mat in the diaper bag. You'll definitely want to use that under her."

I pointed to the coffee table as Ricardo let Teri down. He opened the diaper bag and found the mat. After spreading it out on the table, he pulled out several diapers until he found the larger ones. I reminded him about the wipes and the powder. He laid everything out on the table and then stared at his weeping granddaughter, standing just out of his grasp.

He tried coaxing her, "Mi niña, come here." She shook her head. "Venga aquí!" he repeated a little louder in Spanish.

Shouting loudly, Teri exercised her 'terrible two' voice, crying, "NO!"

Impatiently, Ricardo picked her up and laid her on the mat. She started screaming. He tried shushing, then pleading with her, all to no avail. I knew more screaming would be next, only it wouldn't be Teri doing the screaming. I couldn't stand by and let him scare her to death.

Reaching into the toy basket, I pulled out her favorite stuffed animal, a Precious Pony. As soon as she had it in her arms, she quieted down and watched her grandfather struggle with her clothing. She looked over at me and I grinned, made a goofy face and pointed at Ricardo. She was a smart child and got into the spirit of things.

Teri stuck out her tongue and told him, "Papi's a poopy." I let out a loud chuckle and that sent her into gales of giggles and of course, she squirmed all over the place.

"_Teresa Isabel_," Ricardo said, looking sternly at her, "You must stay still or I cannot change your… this." He shook the clean diaper in her face. She just laughed. She finally settled down and after many tries, he figured out how to take off the dirty diaper.

I couldn't help but laugh again at the look of absolute horror on his face as he held the offending bit of material as far from his body and nose as he could. He dashed into the kitchen holding the used diaper as if it might explode at any moment. I reached over and tickled my granddaughter's tummy while he was gone. He and I would have to have a talk later about never leaving a baby alone on a table.

When Ricardo returned, he kneeled in front of the coffee table and our granddaughter, and then looked helplessly at me for instruction.

For Teri's sake, I relented. "Use the wipes to clean her and finish with a little sprinkle of baby powder. Then put on the new diaper and put her pants back on. It isn't rocket science, dear."

He gingerly used the first wipe and then realized he didn't have any receptacle to dispose of the now smelly, gooey cloth. Delicately folding the mess in on itself, he placed the offending wipe on the corner of the mat and proceeded to use a dozen more wipes. Two or three would have been sufficient. After shaking a huge amount of baby powder on Teri's tush, he looked over at me triumphantly.

I gave him an encouraging look. "Now the clean diaper," I said. I wished I had videotaped this. If the fate of our world depended on my husband quickly changing a diaper, we were all doomed. It took him at least five minutes to figure out which way it went and another five to figure out how to fasten the little pieces of tape. By that time, our little girl had had enough and she scooted herself to the edge of the table.

"But we still have to put your pants on, mi niña," Ricardo told her.

"NO!" she yelled and put up her hands in the classic 'pick me up' gesture. Ricardo looked at me and I nodded. He set her down on the floor and she was happy as a clam, playing with her pony.

Hugo woke up and crawled over to his grandpa, all smiles. Ricardo lifted his grandson up and held him in the crook of his arm. The children had behaved wonderfully for Ricardo, too good in fact. I'd hoped for a little more chaos as our curious and energetic grandchildren 'double-timed' their inexperienced grandfather.

"Uh-oh!" Ricardo uttered. He had that surprised but unpleasant look on his face as Hugo squirmed against his chest.

"Wet diaper?" I asked.

Ricardo closed his eyes and nodded. I chuckled and said, "Well, at least you have one successful change under your belt now, so this should be a snap."

With a deep sigh, Ricardo dug back into the diaper bag and pulled out the needed supplies and began the business of tending to his grandson.

As I watched my normally stern husband coo and laugh while he removed Hugo's soggy diaper, my heart melted. For the past day and a half, Ricardo had performed all my tasks unflinchingly and hadn't complained, even when I made him do them over again to my satisfaction. He hadn't protested, _much_, when I insisted he sleep in the other room last night. He was truly trying to make amends in the way Father Brady had instructed – by walking a mile in my shoes. I'd never seen him try so hard to please me. And now, here he was, changing his second diaper.

I found it amazing that watching my 'oh so superior and arrogant' husband do my mundane household chores and care for our grandchildren could be so sexy. He'd also apologized very sincerely – many, many times – and said I could continue to work for Books/Plum Designs. It had been fun doing the first photo shoot, and seeing my picture in Cosmopolitan had been a thrill. However, modeling wasn't for me. I had no intention of continuing, but it was nice to know there would be no more 'orders' from my husband to 'cease and desist' any future attempts at a career, if I should choose that road. My repentant husband was going to get lucky tonight. I already felt very lucky.

The day had been alternately sunny and cloudy, so when the living room darkened a bit, Ricardo didn't take notice, but I saw movement out the picture window. Turning, I exhaled a quiet gasp when I saw the cause for the light in the room diminishing. Filling the front window with their faces pressed against the glass were our daughters and their families. They had looks of surprise and awe on their faces as they watched Ricardo, diaper in hand, kneeling over a naked wiggling baby. And then it happened!

Hugo sprang a leak! The strong stream caught Ricardo full in the face. And the crowd outside erupted in loud laughter and hoots of glee.

Shocked, first by the sudden fountain of pee hitting him in the face and, second by the spontaneous commotion outside, Ricardo pivoted and saw his children and grandchildren doubled over in laughter on the other side of our large living room window. Hugo's impromptu liquid eruption was dripping from my husband's chin, and his face turned an unlovely shade of red.

I found myself laughing in spite of my efforts to stop. Ricardo swung back and glared at me and then looked down at a giggling Hugo. It took a few moments, but a grin slowly formed across Ricardo's face. I handed him a baby wipe and he chuckled as he wiped his face.

Our children continued to hoot and holler from their safe position outside. Ricardo looked over at me and joked, "I knew I would be eating 'humble pie' when I took on my Acts of Penance, but I wasn't expecting to be 'christened' by my own grandson, especially not in this inglorious fashion… and with such a large audience." He gave a nod backward to the crowd milling outside our window.

"Why are all our children here?" he asked as he finished changing Hugo's diaper.

"I would imagine the Mañoso grapevine has been very busy today. Pilar probably called her sisters from the ER while waiting for Eduardo to get his shoulder fixed. Our children are happy we are together again." I reached out and stroked Ricardo's cheek. "I imagine they came to celebrate their parents finally coming to their senses," I said with a chuckle.

Ricardo placed the now dry, squirming baby on the floor and moved over to me and took my hands in his. "I am happy we are together again too, my love. And I think today is a wonderful day for a celebration. Let us all go to _Rosa's_. We can pick up Carolina and the kids on the way. Then Alejandro can also share in our joy. I would like to replace that awful memory of the last time we were all at Rosa's with a much happier one." I nodded in agreement.

He kissed the tips of my fingers and gazed into my eyes. "Teresa, I had no idea what you went through each day or how hard it was. What you do for me and for our family is simply amazing. It is a miracle you did this for 38 years by yourself without one complaint. I am truly humbled and in awe of you. Can you ever forgive me?"

I answered him with a kiss, and not a kiss that our children and grandchildren should be witnessing, but I threw caution to the wind and seized the moment. A loud cheer erupted from our front porch and then our family came pouring through the front door. Pilar and Eduardo, his arm in a sling, came in last. There were hugs and kisses and laughter, as well as congratulations.

It seemed our children had been truly worried about us, afraid our separation might be permanent. And who knows? If Ricardo hadn't demonstrated how repentant he was and how serious he was about changing his ways, I cannot say for certain what my ultimate decision might have been. He also promised to continue to help more around the house and be more understanding of our children's choices for their lives.

Don't get me wrong. I do not wear rose-colored glasses. I know my dear husband will have his trying moments and let his 'ass-inine' self come to the forefront at times, but knowing he has the will and inclination to curb those instincts now give me hope. And that is enough for now.

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 15 Chapter 99

_AN: While those of us here in the USA are celebrating our nation's Independence Day, those in the TNH Plum world are celebrating Christmas. A little Christmas in July (or any month, for that matter) is always a good thing! _

**CHAPTER 99**

_Stephanie's POV_

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and Dawson and I were going over the holiday sales figures for the _Babe!_ line. To our amazement, they were through the roof, especially when we added in the international sales. Dawson cautioned me that the overseas figures were based on store speculation (and initial purchases) on what _might_ sell in Great Britain and Europe, not necessarily on what _will_ sell. But he was still thrilled with the overall results.

Dawson proudly informed me the Christmas profits would ensure all the company's recent expenditures could be paid off three times over. Then he handed me some papers and said, "Merry Christmas, Stephanie."

I quickly glanced at the papers and saw they were a contract. I cut my eyes to Dawson, but all he would say is, "Read it."

I skimmed the major points of the contract and gasped. If I signed this, I would become a full partner of Books/Plum Designs! "This is too soon. It's only been a few months. I still have so much to learn," I protested.

He just laughed. "Everything you've done and recommended has turned out to be incredibly profitable. Even your Valentine's Day idea, '_Sleep like a Babe_,' has gone gangbusters in our test market. I predict when we go national with it after New Year's, our company's revenues will go sky high. You're worth every penny I'm offering you in that contract. But please, have your lawyer go over this. Remember, being a full partner means you share in the profits, but you also share in the debts. It's always a risk."

Dawson let it slip that he would also be offering new contracts to many of his employees when the New Year began, including my friends he'd hired from E.E. Martin. The ripple effect was definitely a magical thing. One small pebble – _Dawson offering me a job_ – dropped into life's pond had caused dozens of wonderful ripples to form – _my friends being hired, Rosa meeting Dawson, me living my dream and beyond_. And now we were all partners in a successful business and a growing friendship. I couldn't believe my good fortune. My professional life was going so well, it made my head spin.

To celebrate the success of the _Babe!_ line, Dawson threw the entire staff of Books/Plum Designs a huge catered Christmas party at lunchtime and gave out bonuses to all the employees, from the bottom up. Then he let us all go home early. After all, it was Christmas Eve!

I came home to a quiet house. Well, not completely silent. Blackie greeted me at the door with a few small woofs and Rex crawled out from his soup can to see if I'd brought any goodies for him. I gave both my little men some leftovers from the party and changed into comfy clothes so I could settle in for a lazy afternoon and evening at home.

Before I could plop my tired body on the couch to veg for a few hours, the doorbell rang. It was the florist with a beautiful poinsettia, Carlos' latest floral offering just in time for Christmas. The plant was huge with bright red leaflets and it was a direct connection to my Superman. Since I didn't have a Christmas tree, I put the poinsettia in the living room window so I could see it every day.

Yesterday, Dipaolo Bros. had delivered Carlos' choice for a Christmas dessert, a delicious tiramisu, which I immediately sampled. It made me think fondly back to the tiramisu I had 'deconstructed' and strategically 'rebuilt' on Carlos' delectable body. I planned on having another large helping for dinner tonight, hoping to cheer myself up, but it wouldn't be the same as eating it off the delicious mocha latte hard body of my sweetheart.

I should be on top of the world, but the truth is I'm depressed. I know this feeling is temporary, but that doesn't help me right now. I've been weepy all day. I'm missing Carlos something fierce. It's been 80 days since I watched the love of my life walk away from me and into the airport security screening station at Liberty.

I hadn't been back to that airport until I returned from my London trip. Flying directly into Newark Liberty International from Heathrow ten days ago started this depressed feeling in me. Fresh from a successful weekend promoting the _Babe!_ line with the Harrods management team, I was walking on air as I stepped off the plane in Newark.

And then I started walking past the same gates I had with Carlos in October. The same heavy feeling of dread I'd had in the pit of my stomach then overcame me again and it rose up my throat until I felt I couldn't breathe. I could still see the resolute expression on Carlos' face as he turned away from me and never looked back. I knew, and he knew, if he looked back at me he'd never leave and that wasn't an option. He had an important job to do and my job was to support him even if it meant we had to be apart for what was beginning to feel like an eternity.

I knew all this and still I was wallowing in self-pity. It was Christmas Eve and I just wanted to be with Carlos. Instead, my mother was barely speaking to me and the rest of my family was busy with their own lives. Mary Lou had her hands full with Christmas shopping with her kids and helping with school pageants and holiday parties. Tina had gone home to visit her family for a few days. Dawson and Rosa were so in love and enjoying being together, I didn't want to expose them to my lousy mood. Rosa had informed me that Teresa had finally returned home to Ricardo last weekend and the two of them seemed to be mending fences.

I was happy for everyone, but my mood was still in the crapper. Several of my friends had invited me to spend Christmas Eve with them, but I had begged off. I was feeling lonely, but the only person I wanted to be with was thousands of miles away. I just wasn't in a cheery mood and hadn't been since my London trip. And tonight it was all hitting me, and hitting me hard. Carlos wasn't coming home for more than a year, three months and twelve days from now. Next Christmas I would still be alone, still be without Carlos.

Mateo had insisted on picking me up from the airport that day. He'd wanted to be the one to tell me about Joe Morelli breaking into my apartment and trashing it. He also told me about Joe stalking not only me, but Ricardo as well, and how Carlos' friends had stepped in to put a stop to Morelli's harassment. When he told me that Joe had been caught on camera breaking into my house, I was upset about Joe, but I was also not happy with the cameras or the secrecy surrounding the whole thing. Mateo agreed, but he explained that Carlos' Army buddies had only been trying to protect me. I knew they meant well, but I was looking forward to meeting these 'friends' and setting them straight. There'd been too much secrecy and too many lies, all in the name of protecting me. It had to stop.

Even when I saw the ruined photographs of Carlos, I still had a hard time believing Joe had gone as far as he had. I didn't like or trust the man, but if you'd asked me if he could be violent, I would have said no. His recent actions were those of a man on the edge, like something in him had snapped. I would have preferred he go to anger management classes and get some professional help, but Mateo informed me that Joe had transferred out of state and wouldn't be a problem for me any longer, for which I was grateful.

It was nice to be able to go into the 'Burg again and not worry about Joe following me everywhere. And now, my mother would have to stop trying to set us up. I didn't expect her to embrace the idea of my upcoming marriage to Carlos, but at least she no longer had Joseph Morelli to throw in my face.

_Oh Carlos! I miss you so much!_

Despite that bit of good news about Joe, I still hadn't been able to get in the holiday spirit. I'd purchased several lengths of silver tinsel and evergreen garlands, red bows and other Christmassy decorations before I'd left for London, but now I couldn't bring myself to 'deck the halls' of my townhouse. I just wasn't in the holiday mood and it seemed pointless to do all that work when no one else would see it. I hadn't even bought a Christmas tree.

Even Blackie couldn't cheer me up as I dabbed my teary eyes with a tissue. He lay quietly with me on the couch, his furry body pressed up against my side lending me his warmth and comfort. I held one of the photos of Carlos in my hands, newly framed after Joe's break in and destructive rage. At least I now knew how Blackie had escaped his date with the vet. Joe had probably kicked him out just to spite me.

I let out a little sob as another tear rolled down my cheek. Blackie looked up at me with his dark soulful eyes and I couldn't help but give him a wan smile and cuddle him close to my face. After his reprieve from getting 'fixed' while I was in London, I'd decided not to neuter him right away, which my dad seemed inordinately happy about. Men and their gonadal pride!

All of a sudden, Blackie perked up and gave a small woof! And then the doorbell rang. More barking! I gently shushed Blackie and opened the door.

It was Mateo! I was so happy to see him I flung myself at him and gave him a bear hug while Blackie danced excitedly around us. As I stepped back, I noticed Mateo's eyes were as big as saucers and I laughed for the first time all day.

"Sorry if I embarrassed you, Mateo," I said. "I've been a little down in the dumps lately and missing Carlos terribly." Blackie had placed himself between Mateo's and my legs and was giving little growls.

I squatted down and placed my hand on Blackie's neck. "Blackie, this is Mateo Herrera. He's a good friend of mine and I want him to be a friend of yours, too."

Mateo took the hint and squatted down, holding the back of his hand out for Blackie to sniff. In a soft voice, Mateo said, "Pleased to meet you, Blackie. I hear you're named after my cousin's favorite childhood companion. You're certainly as scruffy as the old Blackie was." Mateo's calm demeanor won Blackie over and the puppy tried to crawl into Mat's lap.

We stood while Blackie continued to dance on his hind legs, begging for more attention. Mat's mention of his cousin reminded me and I blurted out, "I'm hoping you brought me a letter from Carlos?" My eyes filled with tears. My rapid mood swings had me thinking my emotional state was hormonal as well as me missing my man.

"I'm sorry to hear you're feeling blue, Stephanie. I hope what I've brought you today will cheer you up. And by the way, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too. Where are my manners? Please, come in."

As I ushered him into the living area, he glanced around the room and then back at me. "No Christmas decorations?"

I shook my head and felt another rush of sadness wash over me. I was afraid if I said anything I'd burst into tears. My hormones were definitely working overtime. _Hello, PMS!_ I reached down to pet Blackie and get myself under control.

"I've been so busy with work," I fibbed. "Not enough hours in the day." I moved toward the kitchen. "Would you like a drink or maybe some coffee? How 'bout some cake or a piece my latest dessert from Dipaolo Bros., it's tiramisu? Is business going well? How are Lucia and the kids?" I realized I was babbling so I shut up and looked at Mat, hoping he would pick up the conversation.

He took off his overcoat and draped it over one of the easy chairs as he followed me into the kitchen. "Well, where do I start? I'd love a cup of coffee, but no cake, thank you. It's hard enough not to pack on the pounds over the holidays with all the family dinners."

"What are your plans for Christmas Day? Are you having Christmas dinner with the Mañosos? I hear Ricardo and Teresa are back together again." I poured us both some coffee and set out the creamer and sugar.

He chuckled and said, "Yes, Tío Ricardo has been 'making amends' to his family ever since Tía Teresa moved back and it has been a great source of amusement for the family. My mother insisted we join the Mañosos for Christmas dinner tomorrow just so she can watch my uncle grovel. My mother has no patience for her brother-in-law's Old World ways." Mateo grinned and added a splash of cream to his coffee, but no sugar. "And business is good, as are Lucia and the kids. How about you? What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow will be a Plum Christmas with the family. I promised my nieces I would be there in time to watch them open their presents."

With a twinkle in his eye, he asked, "Speaking of presents, which do you want first: the Christmas gifts Carlos picked out for you or your letter from him? And remember, the Porsche was meant as your real Christmas present, but you got that early."

_Carlos, Carlos, Carlos!_ You must have shopped your heart out in the few hours we were apart that glorious weekend. And I have nothing to give you. Even if I did, I couldn't give it to you. You are so far away and probably in a country that doesn't celebrate Christmas. What are you doing right now? Are you getting enough to eat? Are you safe? I miss you so much, my love. I've been crying myself to sleep at night and have to keep a box of tissues handy all day. I can't imagine not being able to see you… hold you… kiss you… for another fifteen months and two weeks. An eternity!

My voice was quavering and my hands were trembling. "_His letter, please!_"

Mateo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope with familiar handwriting on it. As soon as he placed it in my hands I pressed it to my heart and then turned away as tears streamed down my cheeks. _Damn, damn, damn hormones!_

"Stephanie? Are you alright?" he asked, concern causing his voice to go up an octave.

With my back still to Mateo, I nodded my head, but couldn't speak. I cursed my weakness, but it didn't stop the tears. I was a mess and I hadn't even read Carlos' letter yet. I took several deep breaths and managed to croak out, "Maybe you should give me Carlos' gift and call it a night. I'm not very good company right now."

Mateo was silent for a moment and then he touched my shoulder. "You can start with this one while I fetch the others from the car." I realized the tap on my shoulder wasn't from Mateo's hand, but from a small jewelry box from Santos Jewelry, the same kind each of the charms had come in. I turned, wiping my face as I went, but it was too late to hide my tears from Mateo.

"You're really missing him, aren't you?" he asked. "I can't begin to replace Carlos, but would a hug help?" Choking up, I nodded. He spread his arms and I folded myself against his chest and let myself have a good cry. It felt good to be held. This must be what it was like to have a big brother. He was patient with me and rubbed my back as I cried my heart out.

I could feel Blackie gently jumping up and lightly touching my legs with his front paws. He wasn't being aggressive, but he knew I was upset, which upset him. He finally wormed his way between our legs and gave a little growl. That was my little protector, making sure this strange man didn't hurt me.

The ugly blubbering finally slowed and I hiccupped a few times, the last one sounding like a bullfrog in heat. That got a chuckle from Mateo. He tried to hold it back, but failed. I leaned back and he handed me his handkerchief. I turned and blew my nose several times and sniffed. I wasn't a pretty crier.

Holding up the soggy bit of cloth, I said, "I'll wash this and give it back the next time I see you."

Another chuckle as he told me, "You can keep it." He held up his index finger and told me, "I'll just be a minute," as he strode out the front door.

Blackie and I followed him out to the living room and I sat on the couch, clutching Carlos' letter and my charm box. What did it hold? I held up my wrist, looking at my beautiful bracelet and touched the four charms it contained. The first had been Wonder Woman for my birthday, then Superman on Halloween, the Porsche was my early Christmas charm after my car bit the dust, and on Thanksgiving Carlos chose to give me Mighty Beast Rex. He'd already given me the Porsche charm meant for Christmas, so what could this one be?

Mateo came back loaded down with beautifully wrapped presents. I jumped up and took the top two from Mateo's stack of colorful boxes that threatened to topple over. Poor Blackie! He didn't know what all the excitement was about, but he was determined to be in the middle of things and, giving little woofs, dashed between our legs as we moved toward the couch.

My delight at seeing all the presents Carlos had picked out just for me dried up my tears. "Oh, Mateo. There are so many! When did he have the time?" I set the boxes on the coffee table next to the charm box and the letter and then sank back onto the couch. They were so beautifully wrapped, they deserved to be showcased under an equally beautiful Christmas tree. I mentally kicked myself for not having the house ready for the holidays.

Mateo joined me on the couch. "My cousin was indeed a busy man that weekend. I'd never seen him so focused and so happy as he was that day buying special gifts for you. He was a man on a mission. He called me so many times to give me instructions that I lost count. He was very specific about everything. I also have a garage full of gifts he selected for his family. I'll deliver those tomorrow."

I smiled. "I remember when he did that. We were at Peddler's Village that Sunday and he stopped by several stores and seemed to really enjoy picking out things for his mother, sisters and grandmother. He even picked out gifts for his father and brother. He's such a generous man." I hugged myself as I thought back on all the fun we had that day. We made so many wonderful unforgettable memories in the short time we had together. I said a silent prayer for Carlos to return safely home so that we could make a lifetime of memories together.

"Which one do I open first?" I asked.

Mateo started to stand. "Do you want me to go?"

"No! Please stay. You should get to see what you had to lug over here. That is, if you have the time? Oh, it's Christmas Eve. You should go home and be with your family. I shouldn't have kept you this long." I reluctantly stood up.

"I can stay a little while longer. I would like to see what my macho cousin thinks are suitable gifts for his fiancée. It's taken me years to finally be able to pick something out that Lucia will actually like and keep." Mateo gave me that 'lost' look that men get when trying to figure women out.

We both laughed and sat back down. I selected the charm box. "Do you know what's in it?" I asked.

Mateo nodded. "I know _what _it is, but I have no idea _why_ Carlos selected the charms. It has two separate pieces he had Mr. Santos solder together." Mat took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. "Carlos' sketch," he explained.

Oh, boy! Another one of my love's 'artwork.' Without opening it, I laid the sketch next to the letter, saving it for later.

Intrigued, I opened the little jewelry box. And there, resting atop a midnight blue cushion lay a tiny lapis globe. Affixed to the top of the little blue planet was a miniature gold tiara studded with diamonds. The kind of tiara a princess would wear. My mouth split my face open in an uncontrollable ear-to-ear grin.

"You obviously know what it means, I see." Mateo looked to me for an explanation.

There was no way I could tell Carlos' cousin about Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of the Planet Chambersburg and her sex slave, who later became the dreaded Dark Lord Carlos the Insatiable, All Powerful Scourge of the Galaxy. This little charm represented several of our amazing fantasies that allowed us to explore each other sexually and even more importantly, bare our hearts and souls to one another. Carlos' game of 'Anything Goes' had quickly become so much more than just a sexual game. It tore down the walls we had put up around our hearts and let us see each other in a way we would never have allowed in another setting.

My hand flew to my mouth as I remembered snippets of conversation Carlos said to me after we'd enjoyed our first two fantasies. _"__I got everything I needed, Babe. You never disappoint… I want you to fly. I'll always want you to fly… I'm just proud you held true to yourself, Babe. Don't ever give that up for anyone… You're special, Stephanie. Very, very special... You stay you, always, promise me?"_

My eyes began to sting as tears started to flow again. Mateo looked away and said in a soft voice, "This charm brings up a special memory for you. One that is too personal to share. Are you sure you want me to stay while you open Carlos' other gifts?"

I nodded and put the tiara charm back in its velvet box and set it next to the sketch and the letter, which I would read after Mateo left. But for now I had gifts to open!

I grabbed the one nearest to me and tore off the lovely wrapping. As I lifted the top off, an _oooh_ sounded from my throat. It was a gorgeous pashmina shawl. When we were at Peddler's Village, Carlos had picked out one for his Abuela Rosa and asked if I would like one, too. I'd left while he selected mine. How could he know my tastes so well? The shawl had a floral pattern done in light shades of blue, pink and cream. The woven fabric was supple and luxurious and the colors were to die for. I wrapped it around my shoulders and stroked my cheek against the soft fabric. It was even more special because I knew Carlos had touched this very shawl. It would look heavenly with my cream suit, or my black one, or any of a dozen of my outfits.

Mateo had been studying my reaction. "So Carlos did well?"

I grinned, "Carlos did indeed do well. It's absolutely perfect. It's the one I would have chosen for myself." I kept the shawl on as I selected another present to unwrap. This one was much larger and heavier.

"What could it be?" I asked no one in particular. Again, I impatiently ripped off the decorative paper and found a hefty cardboard box sealed with strong packing tape.

Mateo reached into his pants pocket and took out a pocketknife. He opened the blade and with a questioning look to me, he asked, "May I?"

"Yes, please," I responded with a gaiety I was finally starting to feel.

Quickly and efficiently, he sliced through the tape and then pushed the box toward me. I eagerly opened the top flaps and moved aside the abundant packing 'peanuts' until the rim of something appeared. "Mateo, would you hold the box while I lift out whatever this is?" I asked. As I lifted the gift from the box, the Styrofoam peanuts spilled onto the table catching Blackie's interest. After a few sniffs he concentrated on the smells on the box instead.

The gift was a large ceramic vase that started out narrow at the base, swelled out in the middle and gradually tapered to a narrow opening at the top. And the colors were just my style. They almost matched the colors in my new shawl. Instead of a floral pattern though, there was a ring of peacock feathers delicately painted in feathery strokes of blue, pink and gold. The vase had a dark blue background at its base, lightening to a brilliant teal at the top.

"Oh, it's stunning. And it has such a lovely shape. I know just where I want to put this," I exclaimed. I carefully carried the vase over to the fireplace mantel and placed it on one end. "What do you think, Mateo? Do you like it here?"

"It looks great, Steph. So, Carlos is two for two, eh?"

"He's hitting it out of the park." I gazed at the vase and imagined Carlos picking it out, just for me. He obviously put a lot of effort into selecting things he thought I would like. It spoke volumes about our future together that he was able to choose such elegant and beautiful things and ones that I absolutely loved.

I returned to the couch and said, happily, "Now for the next one. I feel so greedy… and so fortunate." Giggling, I picked the largest box this time. After tearing off the paper, I let Mateo cut through the tape. Inside was a large Styrofoam mold. The fit was quite tight and it took both of us to get the mold out of the cardboard box and slice through more tape. The two pieces of thick Styrofoam easily fell away once the tape was removed. Nestled securely inside was the most beautiful stained glass table lamp I'd ever seen. Again, it carried the same blue and pink colors of the first two gifts, but also had bright purples and greens. The pattern of the lamp shade featured delicate hummingbirds and large tropical flowers. The base was made of a cream-colored marble.

"This is breathtaking!" I cried. "Look at the colors. I can't wait to plug it in and let its true beauty shine." I placed it on the side table next to the couch and plugged the cord into the wall socket. The lamp already had three light bulbs installed in it. There was a switch on the cord and I turned it on. "_Ohhhh_, it's soooo beautiful. I love the look of stained glass lamps. They are like jewelry for the home."

Mateo tilted his head back and gazed at me. "So far, Carlos' gifts all have one thing in common."

"What's that? Other than they're all gorgeous?" I asked.

"The color blue is dominant in all three items, just like your eyes. Carlos mentioned your blue eyes to me several times that weekend, among other things he loved about you."

I could feel my cheeks warming and knew I was blushing.

Mateo pointed at my face and made a little circular motion in the air underneath my eyes. "And there's the other common color… pink. The fact that you blush so easily must have caught my 'always in control' cousin off guard. Such a spontaneous show of genuine emotion like that would be unfamiliar to him and I imagine it touched him deeply."

Mateo's words about Carlos' feelings for me almost had me crying again, but at least these would be happy tears. "We both caught each other off guard, as you put it. I've never met anyone like him… so strong and sure of himself. He shared his strength with me and instilled confidence in myself. It's because of Carlos that I had the courage to accept Dawson's job offer. In fact, everything good that's happened to me since we met is all due to Carlos' belief in me."

"I'm glad you two found each other," he said. Looking at the vase and lamp and then at the pashmina wrapped around my shoulders, Mateo asked, "Tell me the truth, Steph, you'd like _anything_ my cousin got you, wouldn't you?"

I smiled, "Yes, but in this case, Carlos has truly selected gifts that I love. They're beautiful, elegant and the type of things I'd choose for myself. I can't believe he knows me so well." I sat back down on the couch and clapped my hands. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Well, it was almost Christmas morning. I still had two more gifts to unwrap. And Carlos' precious letter.

I selected the long flat package next. It was also fairly heavy. Like the last two, it was firmly taped closed. Mateo came to my rescue with his trusty pocketknife and soon I was holding an incredible stained glass panel in my hands. The colorful pieces of glass were artfully arranged to depict an outdoor scene of several trees growing along the banks of a lake with mountains in the distance and a sky filled with clouds reflecting the colors of a sunset. Again, it was stunning! I looked closer at the design and thought I could almost make out a yellow brick road. The colors and pattern definitely reminded me of Munchkinland from the Wizard of Oz, which will now always bring memories of the Wizard of Ahhs to me. That brought a huge grin to my face.

"Another personal memory?" Mateo quipped.

"Yes, but this panel is a lovely piece all on its own. I'll have my father install it against the window in my breakfast nook so I can look at it every day." I tucked the glass panel between the couch and the end table for safekeeping.

I took a deep breath and reached for the last remaining present. The box was lightweight compared to the others. This time I slowly and gently removed the colorful wrapping, trying not to tear it. I wanted to draw out the time and make this moment last. Lifting off the top of the box, I gave a slight gasp as I saw what was inside. Rubbing my hand across the soft fabric, I took out the blanket. It was finely woven with a silky wool yarn and the colors were pastel renditions of blues, pinks and greens. The blanket was medium weight and its edges were fringed. It made me want to cuddle up under it and watch the fire in the fireplace while I sipped hot chocolate.

I gave a deep sigh and sank back into the couch. I felt sated. Knowing Carlos had touched each of these things and chosen them for me that special day in Peddler's Village made me feel closer to him in a way I'd not thought possible. I was still missing my man, but I wasn't as melancholy as I'd been.

Mateo stood and began gathering up the torn wrapping paper. I jumped up and put my hand on his arm, telling him, "I'll do that later. I'm sending you home to spend what's left of Christmas Eve with your family. Thank you so much, Mateo, for representing Carlos tonight and delivering his presents to me. Both the presents and your presence lifted my spirits. I'll be OK, so please don't worry about me."

"Alright, Stephanie. Now that you're looking better, I'll go home. Lucia and I are taking the kids to Midnight Mass. They're finally old enough to behave themselves and begged us to take them." He grinned, "I really think it's just because they want to stay up and try to see Santa and his reindeer." He gave me the bits of paper he'd gathered and put his coat on.

"You also sound better than when I walked in here tonight. I'm sorry you had such a bad day. Please know that Carlos loves you with all his heart. I've never seen him as happy and as open as he was the weekend he met you. He'll do everything in his power, which is considerable, to return home to you as soon as possible. Merry Christmas, Stephanie." Mateo gave me a peck on the cheek and let himself out the front door.

I knew he was right and I felt the same way about Carlos, but it was still so hard to hold my head up and keep a smile on my face. At least I had another letter from my love. I snatched it off the coffee table and curled up on the couch as Blackie jumped up and snuggled in with me. I dropped my new blanket over my legs just to feel my man as close to me as possible and stared at Carlos' handwriting on the envelope. It was strong and bold like the man who penned it – like the man who held my heart. I lifted the envelope to my nose hoping for even a hint of Carlos. With a deep breath, I pulled the letter out and settled in to read.

_My sexy Intergalactic Princess Stephanie,_

I smiled at the salutation. He remembered! It was the first letter he'd written me where he didn't address me as Babe, substituting instead the title I created for myself during our first fantasy.

_You are getting this letter either on Christmas or Easter. It all depends on if your poor excuse for a car lasted until Christmas or not. So, Merry Christmas, Babe, or Happy Easter. Whatever day it is, know that I'm thinking of you and missing you with all my heart, body and soul. _

_As my Intergalactic Princess, you rule me and I can't wait until I'm your slave again. Just the memory of your leather 'love' taps on this badass' ass and the sheer pleasure you gave me when the tables were turned have me hot and hard for Your Magnificence all over again. You blew me away, in every sense of the word, with your royal cosmic fantasy. It made me realize just how right we are for each other. Whether you're my queen, lording it over me as your devoted slave, or you're my prisoner of love and I, your Dark Lord Carlos, we are perfect together. _

_We played these great fantasy roles that unforgettable night, Babe, to have fun – as well as to have some smoking hot sex. And we nailed both the fun part and the hot sex part, as well as each other. The point being, Babe, I want you to remember to have fun while you're becoming all that you can be. I want you to fly, mi amor, but I don't want you to drive yourself too hard. Go out with your friends and kick up your heels, just so long as you save your sexy little body for me. _

_I'm counting the days until I am able to hold you in my arms again. Starting April 6, 2010, be prepared to stay in bed for at least one week when I return because I have big plans for us and I hope you have many of your own for us to try. And right after that, my plans are to make you my wife. Then we can practice the 'preliminaries' to becoming parents until we get it right, so when we're ready to make babies, we'll be experts at it. _

_Stay strong, Princess Stephanie and kick some intergalactic ass. I'll be home and in your arms again before you know it._

_I love you, Babe, always and forever,_

_Your Insatiable Lord Carlos_

I read the letter over and over again before I finally folded it and lovingly tucked it back in its envelope and then in my keepsake box with all Carlos' other letters. I still missed him terribly, but the evening had been so filled with him that I didn't feel so alone anymore.

Like I'd explained to Mateo, my nieces had made me promise to show up early Christmas morning. And it had been an emotional day for me so I climbed into bed a little early, 'talked' to Carlos for a while and then drifted off to sleep. _467 days to go until Carlos is in my arms again._ _Merry Christmas, Superman!_

. . .

Somewhere outside the city of Tikrit, a man lay on a narrow cot in a mud wattle hut. It was nearly morning, just another December morning in Iraq. But to this restless man, it was an important day. It was Christmas morning. It was another holiday that he wasn't with the woman he loved.

At least his woman was safe in the U.S., surrounded by family and friends. She was flying high, becoming the Wonder Woman he knew she was. He wondered if she'd received the car he'd ordered for her. He could just imagine her behind the wheel of her own Porsche, her beautiful smile lighting up the road. He trusted his cousin to deliver the car and the rest of the gifts he'd selected for her. He wanted her to know he was thinking of her on this Christmas day, that he was always thinking of her and couldn't wait to be with her again.

There were times he still couldn't believe she had chosen him, that she loved him, but he tried not to analyze that too closely. His life for the near future was his current mission and anything that distracted him was a threat to his survival. But in the early morning hours, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering and it always went to thoughts and images of his woman. _His woman!_ She had totally bowled him over and blown apart his defenses in a matter of hours. She'd caught him off guard and he was hooked – hook, line and sinker. She was everything to him; she was his world.

He had this one last assignment to complete… one last mission to survive… until he could be with her again. _Only 467 days to go until she was in his arms again._ _Merry Christmas, Babe!_

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16 Chapter 100

**CHAPTER 100**

_Stephanie's POV_

Christmas morning was bitterly cold, but no snow, so no white Christmas. It was disappointing and not a good omen for the rest of the day.

I arrived at my parents' house early enough to watch my nieces unwrap their presents, such as they were. Mom, Dad and Valerie were there, of course and Grandma and Wilbur joined us, too. Just one big happy family.

The girls were impatient to begin the unwrapping, so we all gathered around the Christmas tree in the living room. Dad was settled in his recliner with newspaper in hand, Mom in her easy chair with a mug of very potent eggnog, and Grandma, Wilbur and Valerie were on the couch. I sat on the floor with my two nieces.

"Which one do we open first," Mary Alice shouted, clapping her hands in excitement.

Mom shushed her and then pointed to a three-tiered red foil-wrapped package for Mary Alice and a similar green package for Angie. "You're going to need these things, girls." She shot Valerie a stern look and said, "Without your father here to buy them for you, _someone_ has to do it."

Angie and Mary Alice excitedly unwrapped the first tier of their presents only to find a dozen nylon half-slips in each box. The girls' faces grew longer when the second present they unwrapped contained two dozen pairs of white cotton undies. Slowly, they unwrapped the third box, which held three dozen pairs of socks. All were the same white anklet style so if you lost one sock the other was still usable. The two little girls stared numbly at the mounds of white underwear scattered under the tree like small snowdrifts.

Valerie reminded them, "What do you say to Grandma Plum, girls?" They looked up at their mother with blank faces. "Well, what do you say?" Val prompted.

In sing-songy unison, the girls mouthed, "Thank you, Grandma Plum."

Mom also got Val and me underwear – the '7-day' undies set. You know the kind – full coverage brief-style cotton panties embroidered with Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. To be fair to my mother, maybe she saw them when she was buying the girls' underwear and remembered getting these day-of-the-week sets for us when we were little girls. But, seeing the look of smugness on my mother's face as she sat perched on the edge of her chair, I didn't think it was nostalgia that triggered this particular gift choice. More likely, it was a dig at my new career. My mother refused to acknowledge that I now designed high quality lingerie for a living and would never be caught dead in something as ugly and cheaply made as those granny panties.

Mom watched as I unwrapped mine, saw my sour expression and admonished, "This is the kind of underwear decent single girls wear. Now that Joseph has moved out of state, the chances of you making a good marriage are slim to none." She glared at me as if I had something to do with Joe leaving Jersey.

Dad leaned forward and pointed his finger at Mom. "Ellen, that's enough of that kind of talk. Stephanie is engaged to be married to a fine man. I don't want to hear Joseph Morelli's name mentioned again in this house."

Valerie echoed Dad's sentiment, "I don't either. He's a horrible man."

Mom rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, but at least she stopped, for a while.

I was relieved that Dad stepped in, but I knew Mom wouldn't let it drop entirely. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off a headache. Mom knew the gossip about Joe; she knew he'd seduced Val, she knew he had genital herpes, yet she was still upset I'd let such 'good husband' material get away. I guess being from the 'Burg was the only criteria that mattered to my mother.

She turned to Val. "I got a set for you, too, Valerie, because you seem determined not to try to get your husband back." She threw up her arms in dismay. "Why me? Why are my daughters unable to hold on to their husbands? Donatella Reedowski's daughters are fat and ugly and they've managed to stay married. Even Harriet Nelson's daughter Rikki, who had all her teeth pulled, got married last month to a butcher."

I had to say something, not that I thought it would change my mother's attitude, but it'd make me feel better. "Mother, whether you choose to believe it or not, as Dad said, I'm happily engaged to be married to a wonderful man. And this time, my marriage will be a good one, not like the last one where my so-called husband forgot our vows of fidelity the minute we stepped out of the church."

Valerie and I rolled our eyes at each other and then my sister surprised me by saying, "Steve must have the same memory 'disability' Dickie had… or else he took the Christian phrase, 'Love thy neighbor' a little too literally," and she ended with a loud snort.

Mom snapped, "_Valerie! Really!_" Then she turned to the girls again and pointed them toward the side of the tree with her last present for them. "I also got you something fun. I think you girls will get a lot of quiet enjoyment out of them. Your mother and aunt loved this gift when they were your ages."

Mary Alice's face lit up and she grabbed the present with her name on it, tearing off the wrapping paper to reveal a half ream of cheap white copy paper and a 32-pack of crayons. Angie's present contained the other half ream of paper and her own 32-pack of crayons.

I hissed under my breath to Mom, "Couldn't you even spring for the 64-pack and maybe a coloring book or two?"

She hissed back at me, "_You_ try to make ends meet on your Dad's pension. With Val and the girls living with us, there are three extra mouths to feed. And I have to prepare for the future because it's just a matter of time until you lose your awful job and move back home, too."

"Never gonna happen, Mom," I assured her.

Ever the optimist, Mary Alice pointed to the remaining gifts under the tree. "Who are those for?"

"Well, these are for you, munchkin." My sister Valerie kneeled by the tree and picked out her gifts for her daughters. "This is something that will let you play outdoors this winter. New Jersey gets a lot colder than California and you're going to need them. I wish they made prettier ones," she said wistfully, handing the packages to her daughters.

With that less than cheery introduction, the girls opened their mother's Christmas presents with all the gusto of a slug. Inside each large box was a pair of bulky brown winter boots. Val also had wrapped up smaller presents of hair barrettes, mittens, scarves and wool caps. Admittedly, the accessories Val chose were the latest in fashion, but they were still just things the girls needed anyway.

My sister had complained loudly all morning about not having any money to spend on proper gifts, putting all the blame on the girls' father, which only served to exacerbate the girls' miserable moods. I knew her job at the personal products plant didn't pay much, but I had no idea it was this bad. However, my sister had splurged on one thing for the girls. She'd paid Mabel Markowitz, the next door neighbor, to sew some new outfits for the girls' Barbie and Ken dolls. These were just about the only toys the girls had been allowed to bring with them from California, since luggage space had been so limited. The new doll outfits were nice, but obviously homemade. I guess it was better than nothing.

Boy, I thought I was feeling blue _last night_, but after a few hours at my parents' house this morning, if I'd had a gun I'd have been tempted to end my misery. There were eight of us crammed in a tiny overheated space with very little conversation and virtually no laughter. And my mother was determined to rub every bit of joy out of the day for Val and me by mentioning Joe or Steve every few minutes. Despite the fact there was a brightly decorated tree and great smells coming from the kitchen, the mood at the Plum household was subdued, even gloomy. When did Christmas become such a depressing holiday?

I was disappointed to see there were no 'Santa' gifts under the tree for the girls: no toys or games or other fun things to play with. If I'd known how bad things were going to be, I would have made sure there were some playful gifts under the tree for each girl. I'd purchased several gifts for the girls when Mary Lou and I took her kids and my nieces to Radio City Music Hall last weekend to watch the traditional Christmas show. Unfortunately, I'd left those presents at home, knowing the girls were going to spend part of tomorrow with me.

I was now kicking myself for the choice of gifts I'd brought over this morning. I'd brought their 'big' presents, but unfortunately these gifts weren't tangible ones the girls could enjoy immediately. I'd given Mary Alice a series of horseback riding lessons at one of the local stables, but the 'gift' my youngest niece held in her hand was only a brochure describing the stable, its horses and what the lessons entailed; not exactly something a six-year old could immediately get excited about. I should have thought about getting her a stuffed pony to go along with it.

For Angie's gift, I'd selected an American Girl doll, but since the dolls were 'made to order' for each little girl, I wrapped up a 'certificate' and a doll catalogue so Angie could choose what she wanted her new 'friend' to look like and what clothes she'd wear. The gift included me taking Angie to New York City in a few days to visit the American Doll store to pick up her new 'friend' and spend the day having afternoon tea and touring the store and all its attractions.

Both girls were excited about my gifts to them, but that didn't help the disappointing day where the only 'gifts' the girls had in their hands were socks and underwear and a new sundress for Barbie and a denim caftan for Ken.

The one bright spot in the day came from Grandma when she handed each of the girls a small box wrapped in aluminum foil.

"Mary Alice, you've been such a good filly I thought you deserved something special," Grandma told her.

Mary Alice excitedly tore off the wrapping, letting pieces of foil fly everywhere. She shrieked in joy when she saw the sterling silver necklace with a delicately crafted galloping horse, its mane and tail flowing out behind it. The perfect gift for our little pony wannabe! Mary Alice was delighted with it and threw her arms around her great grandmother's scrawny neck. She even gave Wilbur a loud peck on his cheek.

Grandma plucked a piece of aluminum foil from Angie's hair and said, "Angie, I haven't been able to take you to Mass every week like you wanted, so I got you something that might help on those Sunday mornings at home."

Angie was more restrained and carefully unwrapped her box, saving the foil. She gave a gasp and reverently lifted out her own sterling silver necklace. The pendant was a slender silver cross adorned with a sparkling diamond chip. Very Angie, who was eight going on thirty-eight!

Angie held out the necklace to my dad. "Grandpa, would you please put this on me?" she asked shyly. Dad seemed surprised that she came to him, but he gave a small smile as his big hands struggled with the tiny clasp of the necklace. Before he let her go, he kissed the top of her head and told her, "You look beautiful, sweetheart."

Angie let her prim demeanor slip for a moment and threw her arms around Dad's neck, embarrassing him to no end. Then she showed her great grandmother how it looked on her and kissed her on the cheek, thanking her profusely for her very first 'sacred' cross, as she called it. It seemed Saint Valerie had passed the sainthood mantle on to her eldest daughter.

My gifts to my family received mixed reactions. It was definitely the Christmas for gifts of underwear. To my grandmother, mother and sister I gave a sampling of our most popular, though more conservative, _Babe!_ lingerie. Valerie laughed nervously and blushed when she opened her box full of 'dainties' as she called them, but I could see she was thrilled with the selection of colorful bras, panties and camisoles I'd chosen for her.

My mother, on the other hand, voiced her disgust when she saw the lingerie I'd given her. The items were tasteful and functional, nothing too risqué. "The girls at Giovichinni's were talking about crotchless panties and edible underwear. _That's_ the kind of career you have? It's nothing but fodder for that disgusting porn trash. I won't wear such nasty things. What would others think?" She tossed the package to the side of her chair.

Wearily, I tried to explain, once more, "I don't design 'porn' wear, Mom. I design high quality lingerie that is fashionable while still being very comfortable. We use only natural fabrics, and just look at the luscious colors. They'd look so pretty on you."

Talking to my mother was like talking to a brick wall at times, but I noticed Dad leaned over and picked up the box. Everyone else was focused on the last few gifts remaining under the tree. He felt the material of one of the camisoles and smiled to himself. As he tucked the box behind his recliner, he glanced my way and I swear… he winked at me. Maybe Dad would have more luck convincing Mom to wear _Babe!_ than I ever could.

When Grandma Mazur opened her box of _Babe!_ lingerie, she was at the other end of the reaction scale. Grandma was absolutely beside herself with the items I'd chosen for her. Even Wilbur looked on eagerly as she held each bra, panty and, yes, teddy up to her body. Ever since I'd let her join our _Babe Nation_ photo shoot, she'd called herself a lingerie model. I only hoped she wouldn't try to publicly model the garments.

"Thanks so much for the sexy wear, granddaughter. They're real pretty and I'll make them look hot! Just put me in front of the camera." She held up a purple teddy against her body and did a little hootchy-kootchy dance. Wilbur clapped while Dad groaned and hid behind the newspaper, muttering, "Crazy old bat."

I didn't know if Dad would like the GPS unit I got for him, but he seemed pleased with it. Maybe he was just relieved I hadn't gotten _him_ some fancy _Dude!_ underwear.

"I know your cab doesn't come equipped with stuff like this, Dad, and you probably don't need it, but you used to like keeping abreast of new technology. I thought you might have fun seeing how much better you know the streets of Trenton than some high tech gadget."

"The guys at the Lodge were talking about these things and how small they were making them now. I'll enjoy showing them this. And you never know, I might get a fare who needs to go into some part of town I've never been. Thank you, Pumpkin."

The one humorous – and sad – moment of the day came when the girls were on the living room floor playing quietly with their Ken and Barbie dolls. Mary Alice lifted Ken's new caftan and held his nude, anatomically incorrect body against Barbie. Then she started a conversation between the two dolls, which got everyone's attention.

In the deepest voice a little six-year old girl could muster, she said, "Sweet Cheeks, how about some sugar? Daddy could really use some sugar." Mary Alice made the two dolls kiss and then she moved Ken's hands to Barbie's butt and lifted her little pink sundress.

In a high thin falsetto voice, Mary Alice continued, "Oh no, Steve, what if someone sees us? I can't lose my babysitting job. I need the money to buy the red nail polish that turns you on. Do you want me to rub my feet all over your _cockadoodle doo_ again?"

Mary Alice turned to my father and asked, "Grandpa, what does a 'cockadoodle' do?"

Dad quickly snapped the newspaper in front of his face and hid behind it while Val and Mom's jaws dropped. Wilbur turned three shades of red and Grandma just clapped her hands and cackled.

Angie stepped in and corrected Mary Alice in her most adult, matter of fact voice. "A _cockadoodle_ doesn't _do_ much, Mary Alice. It means 'penis' because right after that, Daddy grabbed his, which was sticking straight out of his pants, and rubbed it between our babysitter's bare feet. He made funny noises like he was in pain, but why would he keeping doing that if it hurt?"

Angie turned to Valerie and asked, "Do you know, Mom? Was Daddy in pain or was it one of those 'adult' things I'll find out about when I grow up?"

A choked gurgle came from Valerie before she collected herself enough to speak. "OMIGOD! Did he do this in front of you? Where was I?" she cried.

Ever the adult, Angie calmly replied, "You were at the beauty salon. Dad put in a movie for us and told us to stay upstairs, and we did, but it was more interesting watching Dad through the banister. He was acting so silly with the babysitter."

Val was upset and wanted to continue grilling the girls, but Mom stepped in and put a stop to the conversation. Snatching the dolls from Mary Alice's hands, she said, "That's enough playing for now. It's time to eat. Everyone wash up and take your seats. We don't want dinner to be ruined."

Promptly at 3 p.m., the eight of us were seated around the dining room table staring at the driest roast beef any of us had ever seen. Mom was in a foul mood because she couldn't blame any of us for ruining her dinner, so she blamed it on the oven. She demanded Dad have it checked out or buy her a new one.

Everyone politely took a token portion of the overcooked beef and then loaded our plates with mashed potatoes and gravy. One bite of the gummy potatoes killed that strategy. Seems Valerie had been in charge of the potatoes and was determined to have fluffy mashed potatoes with no lumps so she used the electric mixer. But when the girls started arguing in the living room, she left the mixer on when she went to break up the fight. The potatoes were whipped to within an inch of their lives and resembled paste that clung tightly to the fork. The girls couldn't even fling potatoes at each other to alleviate their boredom.

The one saving grace was Grandma's gravy. It was delicious poured over the rolls. We were all so hungry each of us even took a serving of the limp green beans and actually ate them.

Just like the rest of the day, conversation at the table was stilted and sparse. Mom got in several more digs about my 'embarrassing' job and my absent fiancé no one had ever met. She also kept up a steady barrage of demands that Valerie do her duty and get back together with Steve, the same Steve who liked to rub his cockadoodle between the babysitter's feet. After all, my mother reasoned, who would ever marry Valerie now that she was ruined by '_the Herpes'_? At least Steve already had herpes; that made them perfect mates in my mother's eyes.

Grandma and Wilbur tried their best to distract and engage the girls in talk about school or their weekend trip to Radio City Music Hall, but the girls were too miserable to talk much. Or eat much.

We all brightened up when Mom brought dessert out. She'd ordered the special Christmas cannoli and biscotti from Italian People's Bakery. Unfortunately, someone had left the bakery box on top of the hot stove and the ricotta filling in the cannoli had spoiled. I reached for a chocolate-dipped biscotto, but the stove's heat had dried it out so badly, it completely crumbled with my first bite. Christmas dinner was truly a disaster and it showed in everyone's face, even my mother's.

I couldn't stand the thought of my nieces spending the rest of Christmas in this depressing house. Still quite upset over the girls' revelation about their father and the babysitter, Valerie wasn't up to giving her daughters the support they needed to rise above the miserable mood everyone seemed to be in. I offered to take the girls home with me for the night and keep them all day tomorrow, too. Valerie didn't fight me on it and I didn't give Mom a chance to. I helped the girls pack a few things and we headed back to my place.

I got the girls settled in one of the guest rooms and while they played with Blackie, I fixed each of us a big bowl of Frosted Flakes with slices of banana and then toasted up some frozen whole wheat waffles. When the girls joined me at the table, I poured milk over the cereal and added a big dollop of strawberry preserves to the waffles. The meal was yummy, semi-healthy and fun, something we all needed. The girls were delighted with our unusual dinner fare.

We ended up cuddled together on the couch covered by Carlos' Christmas blanket and watched the original '_Miracle on 34__th__ Street_' until Angie and Mary Alice couldn't keep their eyes open anymore. It had been a long disappointing day for them, but I silently vowed tomorrow I'd make it up to them. After I tucked the girls in bed, I made a few phone calls and then got to work.

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 17 Chapter 101

**CHAPTER 101**

_Stephanie's POV_

My Plum luck was with me! The day after Christmas dawned sunny, but white. It had snowed overnight and there were several inches of new powder covering the yards in my neighborhood, just enough for the girls to experience their first snow when they got up, but not enough to stop traffic. It was still pretty early when there was a knock on my front door, and I had to run to snatch up Blackie before he could bark and wake Angie and Mary Alice.

I opened the door to find Ruby Alston and one of her sons carrying a beautifully decorated, pre-lit Christmas tree. It was one of those expensive artificial ones, but it looked and smelled real. One of my late night phone calls had been to my friend and coworker Ruby. Her kids were all grown and had families of their own, but she still decorated at least three Christmas trees every year, each with its own theme. I'd explained my situation with my nieces and asked if I could borrow one of her trees now that, officially, Christmas was over. She'd been only too happy to help.

Her son set the tree up in front of the huge picture window in the living room and plugged it in. The tree came to life with twinkling lights and swaying ornaments, mostly with a teddy bear theme. I'd spent a couple of hours last night decorating the rest of the house with the garlands and bows I'd bought weeks earlier and now the house looked quite festive. Ruby had also brought a half an apple pie and a whole tin of homemade Christmas cookies her family hadn't eaten. She and her son didn't stay long, but I was grateful they were able to get the tree to me.

Today was Boxing Day! I'd learned about it when I was in London. The holiday was celebrated in different ways in many different countries, but originally, several hundred years ago, it was the day that the rich estate owners gave their servants off after they had waited on their employers on Christmas Day. The employers gifted their servants and employees with boxes of leftover food, gifts and money as a Christmas bonus.

Today, we were going to celebrate our own version of Boxing Day to make up for the lousy day we had yesterday. We'd make today our own fun joyous Christmas Day, one of love, laughter and silliness. The kid in me was never far from the surface and today I would let it have free rein.

Before the girls got up, I put their Christmas gifts, no… make that their Boxing Day gifts, under the tree. And if my best friend, Tina, was able to get an early flight out, there would be even more gifts soon. I'd called her last night and related the miserable day we'd had. She'd jumped at the chance to shop for fun gifts for my nieces and then catch an early flight back to Jersey. Tina loved her family, but all her brothers and sisters and their families had come home for the holidays, too, and her parents' tiny house was filled to the rafters with a horde of adults and children. Tina was more than ready to leave for quieter pastures.

My head was in the fridge deciding on what we were going to have for breakfast when I heard a rumble upstairs. The girls were up! I could hear loud shouts of "Aunt Steph!" and "It snowed!" as Mary Alice and Angie came dashing down the stairs followed by a barking puppy. Then I had the three of them excitedly dancing around me with the girls begging to be allowed to go outside and play in the snow. It was wonderful to see them so happy and laughing that I made a spur of the moment decision.

"Go back upstairs, girls, and get dressed for the snow. And then we're going to McDonalds for breakfast." That pronouncement was greeted by shouts of glee and more barking from Blackie. I reached down and swept him up in my arms.

"Yes, you can play in the snow too, you little ragamuffin. And we'll bring you back some chicken McNuggets. You'll like that, won't you?" I asked as I buried my face in his neck and blew a loud raspberry. He was such a dear little dog. And to think the reason we'd found each other was because I'd been scoping out the church where Carlos and I were to be married.

Everything good that had happened to me the last few months had been because of Carlos. Looking back on that first magical evening when we'd met, I couldn't believe I'd asked Carlos to pretend "this never happened." That night was life changing for me and life saving for Carlos. When we first met, I was convinced he had resigned himself to being part of his mission's ninety percent fatality rate, but by the end of the weekend, I know he believed he could overcome that awful prediction and change the course of his life. And so could I! My life was wonderful because of Carlos and his love for me. But today was a happy day and all my thoughts of Carlos were going to be happy ones. I was going to celebrate what we had together, not dwell on what we didn't have.

The four of us raced outside and took in the wonder of a 'White Christmas' even if it was a day late. Mary Alice scooped up a handful of snow to throw at her sister, which started a snowball fight of epic proportions. My nieces had been living under my mother's repressive thumb for a month now, being constantly chastised to keep their voices down and sit quietly – no running allowed. All that stopped today. Today, we ran and threw snowballs and screamed when the icy crystals trickled underneath our collars. And we laughed, a lot.

After we'd exhausted ourselves, I dropped to my knees and rolled over on my back. When I started dragging my arms and legs through the snow, the girls laughed at my silly actions and Blackie kept jumping over my moving extremities. I got up and asked the girls to look at what I'd 'made.' They stared at me like I was crazy. I guess if you grow up in southern California, there aren't too many opportunities to see snow, let alone make snow angels. I explained what a 'snow angel' was and they immediately caught on and soon my yard was filled with little white angels. I even had them run across the street and make a few angels in the Disher's pristine snowy yard as a surprise for them.

After we were thoroughly covered in snow and couldn't stop our teeth from chattering with the cold, we raced back in the house to get warm. Shucking our coats and mittens, we huddled in front of the fireplace with our hands spread out to the heat.

Turning to warm her backside, Angie finally noticed the Christmas tree and all the presents and clapped her hands in joy. Mary Alice let out a very unhorse-like happy yell and galloped to the tree. She dropped on her hands and knees and started reading the names on each of the gifts. "They're all for us, Angie. Each and every one of them. Aunt Stephanie, are they really all for us?"

I gazed at her beaming face so different from yesterday and assured her that all the presents were for the two of them. And then one by one, our stomachs growled. It was time for breakfast. Promising they could open the gifts as soon as we got back, I got the girls back in their coats, mittens and caps and we piled into my car and headed out to the nearest McDonalds.

I was surprised how busy the fast food place was on a cold 'Boxing Day' morning. I guess others wanted to splurge on a fun breakfast after the formality of heavy Christmas meals.

Angie took a bite of her Sausage Egg McMuffin and then politely covered her mouth before informing me, "We _never_ get to eat at McDonalds for breakfast. Mother says it isn't good for us." She finished chewing her mouthful and then grinned, "But it sure is fun!" Mary Alice let out a loud whinny in agreement as she plowed through her pancakes.

Grinning back, I said, "Today's all about fun, OK? If there's something either of you want to do, or don't want to do, please tell me. This is OUR day. We can do whatever we want. _No rules!_"

Their eyes got big and I could see the gears in their brains working overtime. Knowing my sister, they probably had never had a day without rules. It was time Wonder Woman showed them what 'flying' was all about.

As we turned onto my street, I could see Tina's car was already parked in the double driveway. I hit the garage door opener and continued on into my garage, waving to Tina as we passed. We all got out and I introduced Tina to my nieces, who immediately won both girls over with her ready smile and offbeat humor. She put us to work carrying in bag after bag of stuff into the house. I'd given Tina a list of gifts, groceries and miscellaneous things to buy to make this Boxing Day a memorable one for my nieces.

The girls rushed to the Christmas tree with Blackie running circles around them. I divided up the chicken nuggets between the two girls and they made Blackie sit, lie down, roll over and dance for each little tidbit. It gave Tina and I a chance to catch up and plot our strategy for the day.

I also wanted to show her the beautiful things Carlos had given me. I managed to relate the events of Christmas Eve to Tina without too many tears until I told her about Carlos' tiara charm and his letter. Tina was the only other person who knew about Intergalactic Princess Stephanie and Dark Lord Carlos and soon she had me laughing instead of crying as she acted out a spanking scene she'd fantasized between Imperious Queena Tina and her new court jester, Lascivious Lord Lester. I could only imagine what their first 'date' was going to be like when they finally met.

On the pretext of Blackie needing to go out and do his business, I handed the girls Blackie's leash and asked them to take the puppy for a short walk, but cautioned them to stay on our side of the street and to go no further than the end of the block (only a few houses) and come right back. It would give Tina and I the opportunity to finish wrapping the last few gifts Tina had picked up this morning.

The next few hours were filled with shouts of glee and lots of laughter and giggles, and not all of it coming from my nieces. I think Tina and I had just as much fun watching, as the girls had opening their presents.

Mary Alice was overcome with emotion when she unwrapped the set of finely crafted toy horses I'd asked Tina to find. There was a large black stallion paired with a dainty black mare and they had a little black foal with a white blaze on its forehead. After giving us a million hugs and kisses, she held up the stallion and asked, "Will I have a beautiful black horse like this to ride when I take my riding lessons?"

"I don't know. We'll have to ask when we drive out next week for your first lesson," I told her, already making a mental note to call ahead and see if there was any way such a request could be arranged.

With each new present Mary Alice opened, Tina and I received a hug and a kiss from the delighted little girl. I'd found a large picture book about horses to give her along with several other books such as Black Beauty, Misty of Chincoteague and Bob's Great Escape. I couldn't wait to read them with her.

Tina had found a horse-themed coloring book, a ton of horse stickers, Candyland board game and a yoyo with a horse on it. When we'd talked last night, Tina had suggested getting her one of those sticks with a horse's head on it, but I explained that Mary Alice didn't want to ride a play horse, she liked to pretend she _was_ the horse. But I knew she'd make an exception in riding a real live horse for her riding lessons. The last gift she opened was a pair of riding jodhpurs, boots and a helmet I'd bought for her to wear for her riding lessons. The helmet, of course, stayed on her head the rest of the day. She even slept in it that night.

Angie was only two years older than Mary Alice, but decades older than her actual age. I watched her light up when she opened the box containing a soft blue wool coat topped with a fake fur collar and cuffs. It came complete with a matching purse and cap. I'd purchased them for her in New York. I also got her a fake white fur muff to keep her hands warm. Most of her California clothes weren't really suitable for a cold New Jersey winter. Like Mary Alice, I also got Angie several books to read, notably the Judy Blume and Molly Moon book series.

She screamed in excitement when she unwrapped the American Girl 300 Wishes board game and we spent some time going over the doll catalogue discussing possibilities for her very own American Girl doll. She loved the mp3 player I got her and I told her we'd spend some time later in the day adding her favorite songs to it. Tina had found a Klutz Friendship Bracelet kit and one of those interactive robotic toys (a fancy blue hermit crab Tina swore was all the rage), and Angie's first diary, or journal as they call them now.

I also got a few things for the girls to share when they came to visit me. Tina and I got a kick out of the girls' excited reactions when they unwrapped the Easy Bake Oven. And they were jumping up and down with delight over the professional looking mic system complete with a karaoke program and screen. When they unwrapped the brand new Wii console and saw all the games we could play on it as well as the dance program it had they hugged us so tightly we could barely breathe. I'd also purchased several more books that could stay here and we could read together when they visited. The Canterwood Crest series was for Mary Alice since it was all about horses, and the E. Nesbit books and Goosebumps series were mainly for Angie, but I figured Mary Alice would grow into them.

Tina and I let the girls play with their 'newly gotten loot' while we cleaned up the aftermath of torn wrapping paper, empty boxes and Christmas ribbon and bows. Blackie 'helped' by shredding the paper into even smaller pieces as he attacked each offending paper monster. The girls thought he was hilarious.

I leaned against the doorjamb and watched my nieces giggle and shriek with feigned fear as Blackie pounced on them and licked their faces. A daydream took over my imagination and the kids morphed into a little dark-skinned boy with nearly black hair and chocolate brown eyes, and a little girl with smooth (not frizzy, please) brown hair, blue eyes and skin the color of chocolate milk. And standing next to me was a tall, well-built mocha latte-skinned man with very sexy brown eyes and a captivating 200-watt smile.

Then Tina nudged me and the daydream disappeared as reality took over. I realized it was nearly noon – time for lunch.

I had an idea. I scooped up Blackie and asked the girls, "Would you like to help Tina and me make something special for dinner tonight?"

Angie looked dubiously at me. "Does it involve cooking?"

"Yes, it does. I was thinking of making my new favorite snack, Papas Rellenas. We need to start it now, but it won't be ready to eat until later. What do you say?"

"Well... Mom says you can't cook. She told me if you tried to I was to make you take us out to eat, otherwise she said you might poison us."

I coughed; Tina chortled. I thought that was a little extreme of Val to tell her daughters my cooking would poison them. "Your mother was exaggerating a bit, but I will admit before I met my fiancé Carlos and his Abuela Rosa, my cooking skills were a bit lacking. Do you know what Abuela means?"

Mary Alice piped up, "It means grandmother. Lots of our friends in California call their grandmas Abuela or Abuelita." She pointed up at the picture of Carlos on the fireplace mantel. "Is that Carlos?" she asked.

I lovingly held the framed picture of my sweetie and showed it to Angie and Mary Alice.

Angie giggled and said, "He's cute."

"Yes, he is, though I think he'd prefer to be called handsome."

"Or incredibly hot, sexy and hung," Tina whispered to me.

I tried to hide my grin and explained to my nieces, "Carlos' family is from Cuba and Cuban food is _scrumdili-icious_!" Both Angie and Mary Alice giggled at my made up word. "Carlos' Abuela Rosa is teaching me how to make all of his favorite Cuban dishes and Papas Rellenas has now become my favorite."

"What is it?" Mary Alice asked.

"Basically, it's fried potatoes. You like French fries, don't you?" They both nodded. "And you like mashed potatoes?" Again, they nodded. "Well, this is fried mashed potatoes with a great tasting 'meatball mixture' in the middle." That got puzzled looks, but I knew once we started, they would not only enjoy eating them as much as I did, but they would enjoy making them, too.

We trooped into the kitchen and everybody washed their hands. We snacked on a few of the cookies Ruby had left us and then got to work. I gathered all the needed ingredients and then set Angie to peeling potatoes and Mary Alice to beating the eggs. I started browning the ground beef and Tina diced the vegetables. After the potatoes boiled, both girls enjoyed mashing them and then forming them into little bowls to hold the cooled meat mixture. We made a mess rolling them in to balls and dipping them into the eggs and bread crumbs. The girls were actually disappointed when I told them we had to let them sit in the freezer for a couple of hours before we could fry them.

But when I told them we were going to make and eat dessert for lunch, they forgot all about the Papas Rellenas.

Mary Alice and Angie lugged the Easy Bake Oven into the kitchen and we spent the next hour making teeny tiny little red velvet cakes iced with pink frosting and sprinkled with candy confetti. We had a blast making and then eating the mini cakes – I refused to call them cupcakes. They were remarkably good and easy to make. I also made sure each girl downed a big glass of milk and ate some apples dredged in peanut butter. I wasn't a totally irresponsible aunt.

Angie was so excited about learning to bake, we also made the mini cheese pizzas that came with the little oven. Mary Alice got into the spirit of things and added to her mini pizza some of the spicy meat mixture we'd made earlier. Maybe she had some Cuban blood in her?

Tina was great with my nieces and she also managed to cheer me up as she coaxed us into singing karaoke. We kept all the songs light and fun and encouraged each other to get as loud and wild as we could. Tina started the song fest with Cyndi Lauper's _"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," _and we all joined in for the chorus_._ The girls loved singing _"Hakuna Matata"_ from the Lion King and _"I'm a Believer"_ by The Monkees, as well as lots of current pop tunes by the girls' favorite rock stars. I ended our rock session by singing _"I'll Love You, Always Forever"_ by Donna Lewis, thinking of Carlos the entire song. I got a standing ovation from my fans. Even Blackie stood on his hind legs, and waved his front paws. So cute!

Next was the Wii, and a dance competition. The girls eventually beat Tina and me, but we gave them a run for their money. Dancing was fun, but exhausting, especially at the pace Angie set. She was a dancing maniac.

After that sweaty workout, we took Blackie for a walk around the neighborhood to cool down and see all the Christmas lights and decorations. The girls pointed out the Santa on the roof feeding his reindeer and they giggled when the inflatable snowman went from thin to fat in a just a few seconds. After seeing how all my neighbors decked out their houses for the holidays, my nieces made lots of suggestions on how we could fix up my place for next year.

Again, my mind meandered as I imagined Carlos and me taking this same walk in this same neighborhood in a few years with our own children. We had our whole lives ahead of us and our future looked bright and happy, _if only Carlos…! What if he never…?_ I took several deep breaths to quiet my mind from going to that dark place. He was Superman… he promised me he'd come back. My prayers for his safety were becoming more frequent the longer he was gone.

When we returned home, it was time for dinner. The girls were eager to fry up the Papas Rellenas they'd made earlier. Tina prepared a veggie tray with Ranch dip while I pre-heated the mini fryer. In a few minutes, we were seated around the dining table munching on the fried potato balls and fresh veggies. Mary Alice announced the Cuban appetizers "muy delicioso." It seemed I was going to have to learn Spanish from my six-year old niece.

After we each had a piece of apple pie, we cleaned up the dinner mess and returned to the living room. Tina showed Mary Alice all the moves she could make with her new yo-yo. I realized Angie had left the living room. I found her in my den, looking at the sketches I'd done for my wedding gown.

"I thought you only drew ladies' underwear, Aunt Steph?" Angie asked.

I sat down in my chair and pulled her onto my lap. "Normally, that's what I design, but I've been looking for a wedding dress and haven't found anything that looks like the picture I have in my head. So, I thought I'd try to draw it and see if someone could make it for me."

"You mean like Mrs. Markowitz made the clothes for Barbie and Ken?"

"Well, something like that, but I would use a professional seamstress. Someone who has the right equipment and experience making wedding gowns."

"Yeah, that would be much better. The dress she made for Barbie was pretty old-fashioned. I like to draw clothes for my Barbie that are more like something Hannah Montana would wear."

"You like to design clothes, too?" I asked. Angie gave a shy smile and nodded.

"That's awesome," I told her. "Maybe we could sketch together tomorrow?"

"I'd like that, Aunt Steph," she leaned back against me and sighed. "Nobody knows I like to… _sketch_. I didn't know what to call it except drawing. Grandma Plum makes it sound like what you do is bad… she calls it dirty. Why?"

"I don't know, Angie. I don't know why my mother says or does anything. I design clothes and I get paid a lot of money for doing it. Would you like to come with me to my office sometime?"

Her face broke out into a big smile, "Oh yes, please. Can I?"

"Of course you can. I'll talk to your mom and see what day would be best." Rummaging around in my desk drawer, I found a spare sketch pad and some pencils. "Take these and practice sketching whatever pops into your head, OK?"

Angie hugged the pad to her chest and nodded. We sat quietly for a moment and then looked again at my wedding gown sketches.

"What do you think of this one?" I asked, pointing to my most recent sketch – a long form-fitting gown that flared out at the hemline. It was strapless with a small but beautiful train and the fabric had delicate flowers scattered around the skirt.

She ran her fingers over the drawing. "That's my favorite. It looks like something a princess would wear."

"An intergalactic princess," I mused.

"Huh?" Angie queried.

"Never mind. Let's go join Mary Alice and Tina and challenge them to a game of Candyland."

As the evening wore on, Tina and I watched as both girls yawned several times, yet insisted they weren't tired. We all piled on the couch and I read from one of the Goosebumps series, 'Beware, The Snowman,' which I thought was appropriate for the season. I didn't get very far into the book before both girls drifted off to sleep.

Tina picked up Mary Alice and I shook Angie awake just long enough to get her to walk up the stairs to bed. As I was tucking her in, she kissed my cheek and sleepily asked, "Can we live here with you forever, Aunt Steph?"

It brought tears to my eyes to know my nieces were so unhappy with their current home environment. Something had to change. There had to be a way to get Valerie and the girls out from underneath my mother's repressive thumb.

Well, this next week was going to be a good one for them; I'd see to that. First, was Mary Alice's riding lesson and then, Angie and I would take the train to the City to pick up her American Doll and spend the day together.

I made myself a promise to spend more time with my nieces, even if it meant I had to run the gauntlet of my mother throwing jab after jab about how I'm ruining her life and leading Valerie astray. Mary Alice and Angie had to get out in the real world and see how most women lived their lives – not just the limited perspective of my mother.

Boxing Day was nearly over. In just a few days, it would be 2009. A New Year! Just a little closer to when Carlos would be home, in my arms again.

**TBC**

_AN: The TNH2 team has continued Jude's love for illustrating her story. We've chosen some pictures for your enjoyment and uploaded them at www. flickr dot com /photos/ 80609584 at N07/ You will have to take spaces from the link and use the appropriate symbols for it to work. We will continue to post additional pics as the story continues. _


	18. Chapter 18 Chapter 102

**CHAPTER 102**

_Stephanie's POV_

Carlos' eyes were half closed, but he was looking at me with such depth of emotion I felt my own eyes filling with tears. "Te amo, también, Babe, siempre y para siempre." [_I love you, too, Babe,_ _always and forever._]

He pressed his lips against my forehead and when I raised my head to capture one last kiss, _he was_ _gone!_

Panic shot through me and I sat bolt-upright in bed, but then my head started to explode. I threw both hands up in an attempt to contain my skull before it blew apart into a million pieces. The pounding from within was fierce and incessant. An awful sound filled the room and I realized it was me, groaning. I let my body slowly sink back into a pile of pillows and wished I were dead. Well, maybe not _dead_, but beheaded. I guess that's the same thing. I just wanted the pain and pounding in my head to stop.

After lying there for too many minutes to count, moaning and groaning, I heard the bedroom door open. I burrowed farther into the covers. A shrill voice pierced my ears – a voice that was way too cheery, way too loud.

"_Good morning, Ms. Sunshine!" _

If I'd had a loaded gun anywhere near me I would have shot the owner of that head-splitting screech. I stuck my head out long enough to see Tina holding a glass of water and two little white pills.

She lowered her voice. "Damn, you look like I feel. I guess we overdid it last night with the chocolate martinis, huh?"

I grabbed the pills and frantically downed them and then turned back over in bed, covering my head with a pillow.

"Oh no, you don't! It's time to get up and greet the New Year. Come on, Stevie…you'll feel better once you get up and start moving." She pulled the covers off me and bounced up and down on the bed, nearly making me puke.

_New Year!_ Now I remember. Tina had come over to my townhouse last evening after work. We'd planned on a quiet night, celebrating New Year's Eve at home, just the two of us. Neither of us had felt like going out among all the crowds of happy people, watching couples in love kiss as the ball dropped and everyone cheered. I wasn't in a cheery mood. I was missing Carlos too much.

Right after Tina and I had finished our celebratory dinner of pizza and coke last night, Mateo showed up on my doorstep. He'd brought me another charm from Carlos. I laughed in delight when I saw it. The charm was a little silver martini glass encrusted with tiny chocolate diamonds. Chocolate martini was the treacherous drink I'd had too much of the night Carlos and I had met. It was the liquid truth serum that had loosened my tongue and my inhibitions and had started the night _that never happened_. I thought I'd always be grateful to whoever invented chocolate martinis, though after consuming way too many last night, I was now having second thoughts.

That's right! Mateo had also brought over all the makings for chocolate martinis, courtesy of Carlos. My sweet, sweet man! Carlos hadn't forgotten the tiniest detail and was making sure I remembered every minute of our time together. Last night, Tina and I had happily drunk one chocolate martini after another until we collapsed into our beds shortly after midnight.

And I had had that wonderful dream of Carlos and our first night together. And now it was a new year… 2009. I was just a little closer to holding Carlos in my arms once again. "_Carrrlos!_" I cried.

"What is it, Stevie?" Tina asked, alarmed by the despair in my voice.

I rolled over on my back and flung my arm over my eyes. I was such a drama queen when I had a hangover. "God, it was all _just a dream!_" I nearly sobbed with the memory of it.

"It felt so real, Tina. Like it had really happened. Carlos and I were together in a hotel room and we were making such sweet beautiful love to each other. I remember he was wearing a mask and… _wait_…that _did_ happen. Just… not… last night. That's why it felt so real. I dreamt about our last fantasy. _Number 12!_" A smile slowly stretched my lips until my cheeks hurt.

"Girl, _spill it!_ I deserve to have a little sex fantasy, even if it is via voyeurism. I have the same pounding headache you do, but without the bennies of a sexy dream with a gorgeous Cuban love god. You'd better tell me everything, don't leave out the tiniest detail, not that anything about Carlos is tiny." She grinned and jostled my leg.

Then a speeding black bullet leapt on the bed covering me with licks and kisses. "Blackie, not now. My head is splitting in two." Seeming to sense my dark mood, Blackie settled down by my side and nudged my hand, begging for his ears to be scratched. Looking into his sweet soulful face, I couldn't help but oblige my little puppy.

Sitting up, I reached for the glass of water and downed the rest of the soothing wet stuff in one gulp. It wasn't nearly as good as my favorite hangover cure of a Coke and fries, but I immediately felt better.

"Okay, but I warn you, Tina… it's a strange one and it was as if the gods were conspiring to prevent us from fulfilling our last fantasy. It was _a really good one, too,_ and Carlos made it all come true, though it seemed to take forever before we got to the good stuff."

Tina plumped up a bunch of pillows behind her and got comfortable. "Well, _get on with it_ and don't leave out any of the _good stuff_."

I settled in, Blackie cuddled up against me, and I thought back to that first night with Carlos last October, fortified by the dream I'd just experienced. That Friday night had passed so quickly as Carlos and I went through the bucket of fantasies – and condoms – and it was now _very early_ Saturday morning…

. . .

_The last fantasy._ We were down to the final slip of paper and the twelfth condom. _Twelve!_

If I hadn't lived it, I'd never have believed it. I'd met this amazing Cuban Sex God less than ten hours ago and what was supposed to have been a one-night stand had turned into a life changing experience. My gorgeous partner for the night had proposed this sex fantasy game called _Anything Goes_ where we each wrote out six of our wildest sexual desires. We had the whole night to make each dream come true. After eleven mind-blowing sexual encounters, neither Carlos nor I were the same people that had bumped into each other in the Hilton Hotel bar last evening. We were now a couple desperately in love.

Number 12 was one of my fantasies so I knew what it said. My body was tingling in anticipation. This one would be as much about the sense of hearing as it was the sense of touch. I unwrapped the paper, relishing the sensations coursing through me as I imagined what was soon to come. Hopefully, it was _me_.

I read what I'd scribbled on this piece of paper just a few unbelievable hours earlier: _Speak to me only in Spanish as you slowly and thoroughly seduce and then ravish me. _

I handed it and the last condom to Carlos. His luscious mouth stretched into an ear-to-ear grin as he read it.

"Babe," was all he said as he grabbed a few of his clothes out of the closet and disappeared into the bathroom.

I sat on his bed in my bra and panties and waited. I wasn't good at waiting. And then my stomach started growling. _Great!_ The hungry beast was awake again. Knocking on the bathroom door, I yelled, "How much longer, Señor Ravisher? Get your sexy Spanish-speaking butt out here and start talking the panties off me."

I heard him reply in Spanish. "Espéreme, mi Estefania. Las cosas buenas vienen, y me refiero a venir, a aquellos que esperan. Dame dos minutos más y luego voy a tener que mendigar para que." _I guess the fantasy had already started._

"What?" I shouted through the door, having no idea what he just said. This 'all Spanish' fantasy had one serious flaw, I realized.

Carlos repeated it in English. "Wait for me, Stephanie. Good things come, and I do mean cum, to those who wait. Give me two more minutes and then I'll have you begging for it."

Such an arrogant ass… make that a supremely and justifiably confident ass, as well as a gorgeous, firm and 'bite-worthy' ass.

Chuckling, I turned and started pacing. Loud rumbling sounds emanated from my belly. I had to eat something and my taste buds were screaming chocolate. I'd already eaten everything I'd purchased earlier. Grabbing the pair of pants Carlos had been wearing when I met him, I searched through the pockets and found four one-dollar bills. That should buy me enough chocolate to stave off the worst of my hunger pangs.

I threw on one of Carlos' shirts and a pair of his black silk boxers, gave out a quick yell to Carlos and dashed out the door. The vending machine was just around the corner in the hallway near the elevators. I stuck the first dollar bill into the little slot and made my selection. A Snickers bar! Yum… chocolate, caramel and peanuts. Carlos should approve; nuts were healthy, weren't they? I made two more selections and contemplated my final choice.

I'd just inserted my last dollar when I felt a presence behind me. His warm breath caressed my ear. "Hermosa Señorita! No se asuste. No te hará daño." [_Beautiful Lady! Do not be frightened. I will not harm you_.]

I smiled to myself. My Don Juan had found me. I didn't know what he was saying, but whatever it was it had the desired effect. I had shivers running up and down my spine listening to his deep sexy voice speaking to me in Spanish.

I turned around and let out a little scream. The man standing in front of me was not what I expected and my shivers of arousal turned to fear for just a fleeting moment. The tall dark _masked_ man looming over me quickly placed his hand over my mouth and put his index finger perpendicular to his lips in a _shush_ gesture.

The flash of surprise I'd felt when I first saw him quickly turned to desire. I took in Carlos' changed appearance appreciatively. He was wearing a black mask over his eyes and… _he was naked_ from the waist up, unless you counted the big black 'Z' painted across his magnificently sculpted bare chest. The mask looked like it was made of black silk and had two eye slits cut into it. The cloth mask was tied around his head and I couldn't help but be riveted by those intensely staring dark brown eyes that held me rooted in place.

He moved closer and I noticed a black cloth draped across the top of his shoulders and down his back. The 'cape' and his mask looked like the remnants of his black silk shirt. Such a resourceful hombre! The overall effect was quite dashing and a little bit scary. And definitely _hot, hot, hot!_

My Spanish seducer was none other than Zorro, in the flesh. And what incredible flesh. His chest was a beautiful shade of mocha latte tan and there were ridges and bulging muscles everywhere. This gave new meaning to riding my man like Zorro, given that he really was Zorro!

I reached out to touch him, but hesitated when I saw a wicked contraption of wood and wire hooked in the belt of his black jeans. It looked suspiciously like half of a wooden coat hanger wrapped with the ends of several wire clothes hangers that had been straightened and neatly braided together into a length about two and a half feet long. I assumed this was Zorro's _'sword.'_ His thoroughness in creating his costume for our last fantasy impressed me.

'Zorro' followed my stare and a wicked grin escaped his intense demeanor. He stepped back and pulled the 'rapier' out, holding the wooden handle. In a flash, with one arm arced over his head, he parried and lunged to the side, then made the classic Z slash through the air. Standing back at attention, he replaced his 'sword' in his belt and then gallantly bowed low to me.

With his voice low and seductive, he began his assault on my senses. "Mi bella dama, Don Carlos Diego de la Vega, Seductor y Violador de Señoritas, a su servicio." [_My fair lady, Don Carlos Diego de la Vega, Seducer and Ravisher of Young Ladies, at your service_.]

He held my hand and bent low again to kiss it, his dark brown eyes looking up at me through the mask, giving him a wonderfully mysterious aura. I caught a whiff of cologne, or maybe aftershave. The scent was light and subtle, a little peppery, and very sexy.

As he stood in front of me, his deep resonant voice filled my appreciative ears again with murmured words of what sounded to me like seduction. "También me llaman el Zorro. Y tú, ere mi presa." [_I am also called the Fox. And you, you are my prey_.] A shiver ran down my spine at the predatory look he gave me, like a hungry lion looks at a gazelle.

And then his gaze softened, just a little. "Eres tan hermosa. Tus ojos son el azul del Mar Caribe. Tus labios son como cerezas rojas maduras y tú piel es como la porcelana." [_You are so very beautiful. Your eyes are the blue of the Caribbean Ocean. Your lips are like ripe red cherries and your skin is like porcelain_.]

He reached out and ran the back of his fingers against my cheek. "Tan suave." [_So soft_.] I tilted my head into his fingers. The next few sentences were a blur of sweet sound. With each softly spoken word of Spanish, I was weakening, though I never had any intention of resisting his considerable charms.

His hand moved to caress my hair, which was fluffed out to the max after hours and hours of rolling around in bed. "Tú pelo es una nube de seda rizos del color de las castañas asadas y…" he leaned in to smell my hair, "huele a vainilla y cerezas." [_Your hair is a cloud of silken curls the color of roasted chestnuts and…it smells like vanilla and cherries_.]

I couldn't get enough of his low sultry voice or the sexy sounding words that flowed so smoothly and seductively from his perfectly shaped lips.

Before he pulled back, those enticingly full lips touched my ear. "Que han emitido tú hechizo sobre mí, y yo ya no podrá resistir, mi Lolita." [_You have cast your spell over me and I can no longer resist you, my Lolita._]

Then his soft sensuous lips were pressed against mine, sending a thrill straight down to my...

The next thing I knew I was flung over Zorro's shoulder, my upper half now dangling down his back. While not the most comfortable position, I had to admit I had a great view of his taut buns. His hand was firmly clasping my considerably less taut buns. The forceful macho move had my heart racing with thoughts of imminent ravishing. But I wasn't so swept off my feet (literally and figuratively) that I forgot my priorities.

As he started away from the vending machine, I gave out a small shriek. "Wait, Carlo… Zorro! I need my last candy bar!" He took a few steps backward and stopped in front of my metal and glass 'drug dealer' of choice.

Straining to lift my head up far enough to see the rows of treats, I made my final selection and pulled the lever, watching the orange-wrapped goodie drop into the bin below. I tugged downward on Zorro's butt and he did a squat (wow…from this angle I could see his butt was really firm and beautifully shaped). I reached into the bin and pulled out my Reese's cup, and then playfully slapped his ass.

"Giddyup, Zorro. We're good to go now," I said.

He rose back up and I heard a muttered, disdainful "_Giddyup_?" Dangling down his back with all the blood rushing to my head, I was a little disoriented, but I grinned and slapped his butt again, this time putting a little more force into it.

In a less than amused tone, Carlos said, "Recuperación es una perra, mi querida." [_Payback's a bitch, my dear_.] Even though he was still speaking Spanish, his tone made me think whatever he just said wasn't meant to seduce me.

Carlos strode down the hall toward our room as I unwrapped my first piece of chocolate heaven. I gave a little squeal as his hard muscled shoulder dug into my abdomen. Before we turned the corner, a man's head poked out a door. I grimaced and yelped as my half-naked Zorro gave my butt a light smack. After a brief look at the strange tableau we must have presented, the man's eyes grew big and he slammed his door shut.

Oops! If we weren't annoying our hotel neighbors with loud screams of ecstasy, we were scaring them with masked men carrying damsels in distress slung over their shoulders. I grinned to myself at our brazenness.

I couldn't eat while I was bouncing around on his broad shoulders and knew as soon as we returned to the room the ravishing would start. And as much as I wanted to be ravished, and boy, did I ever want that, my body needed fuel and my engine ran best on chocolate.

In my current position, my field of vision was limited to the ground or Carlos' butt. As I intently stared, I noticed something interesting and it wasn't the floral pattern in the hall carpet. Sticking out of Carlos' back pocket was the room key. Grinning, I quickly picked his pocket and slipped the key card in my bra. That should buy me enough time to consume several of my candy bars while Carlos searched for the 'missing' key.

We arrived at the room and Carlos reached back for the card. Finding his pocket empty, he set me down and searched every pocket, all the while muttering to himself in Spanish. I leaned back against the door and took my first bite of the Snickers bar. Sighing deeply, I relaxed while I watched my naked-chested Zorro pat his body down. Soon, the hands patting down that hard body would be mine. _Yum!_ I popped the final bite of peanutty goodness into my mouth as I watched his hard ass striding back down the hall toward the vending machine. _Double bum yum!_

Looking at the three remaining chocolate choices in my hand, I selected the Hershey bar with almonds. More healthy nuts. Was I a good girl or what?

Before I could even open it though, Carlos came tearing around the corner with an intense look in his eyes. He stopped just long enough to pick me up, fireman style again, and continued running down the hall. I could hear voices close behind us. _Uh oh!_ Someone was coming. I didn't want to have to explain a half-naked Zorro to anyone and from Carlos' rapid pace, I guess he didn't either.

We weren't going to make it around the next corner in time. I wondered if we'd get thrown out of the hotel for this. We'd racked up a slew of noise complaints from my neighbors on the fourth floor. So far, no one from the eighth floor had complained; at least the hotel management hadn't called us yet.

Suddenly, the door to the room next to ours opened and a tiny white-haired lady stuck her head out. She was slightly hunched over and stood well under five feet tall. She looked to be Asian, maybe Vietnamese. Her wrinkled face broke out into a shy smile and she motioned us in. Carlos wasted no time and hurriedly slipped in the door as the woman backed into her room. He quietly shut the door behind us and put his ear to it. We could hear loud footsteps and then the voices of two men talking in the hallway.

I was still slung over Carlos' shoulder and didn't want to interrupt his concentration. Our impossibly ancient neighbor pointed to a chair welcoming us in. Curious about our rescuer, I lifted my head up to look around the room. The room was identical to ours, though much tidier. Lying on the bed, sound asleep, was an elderly, white-haired Asian man, a big smile on his face. He looked like he had had a tiring, but satisfying night. Much like Carlos' and mine.

Carlos turned from the door, his ever aware eyes sweeping the room, and then settled his gaze on the old woman. She was wearing one of the hotel's fluffy white robes, but she was so tiny the robe swallowed her up. He set me down and we watched the woman's eyes widen. She gave us a huge smile as she stared at Carlos' naked torso. She was toothless. She reminded me of my Grandma Mazur, except a century or two older. Grandma took her dentures out at night, too. Still staring at Carlos, she reached out and traced the black Z with her finger. I realized he'd used my eyeliner pencil and eye shadow to create it and I made a mental note to buy some new make up.

An amused, almost sheepish, grin came over Carlos' face as he nodded and said, "Zorro." He pulled his 'sword' out and slashed the air in a Z formation and then bowed deeply to the woman who barely came up to his belly button. The little Asian lady giggled and made the same Z gesture with her hand, covering her mouth as her laugh deepened. Another woman falls for Carlos' charms.

Carlos returned to the door and looked through the peephole. I stood there feeling a bit silly as our 'hostess' stared at me. Since she had been silent all this time, I figured she spoke little English and I spoke nothing but. I still had the candy bars in my hand and offered her one. She graciously bowed and took it. As she looked at its silver wrapper, she giggled. Holding it up to me, she chortled, "Tree Mou kateer!" Fitting choice for a woman held hostage by a sword-wielding swashbuckler! I ate my Hershey bar while she gummed her chocolate fluff. The chocolate had melted slightly from being held in my hands. I had chocolate goo smeared on my fingers as well as my mouth. So did my hostess.

Carlos joined us, whispering, "La costa es clara" [_The coast is clear_], but gave me such a look of dismay when he saw my chocolate-smeared mouth. I remembered his dislike for the four sweet desserts I lathered his body with just a few hours earlier. Sticking my tongue out I tried to lick as much as I could off my lips and chin.

When I sucked on my fingers, Carlos took a step closer to me and I could hear him exhale and groan at the same time, "Me estas metando, Babe." [_You're killing me, Babe_.] The lustful look in his eyes seared through me and I couldn't wait to get back to our room. He used his finger to wipe the last bit of chocolate from my lips and then slowly licked the sweet traces from his finger. Now it was my turn to groan.

Chuckling, our diminutive Vietnamese lady watched us and nodded knowingly. When she stepped to the wall that adjoined our room and put her ear to it, my cheeks reddened. I knew how loud both Carlos and I had been during the last few fantasies. She tilted her head and wagged her index finger at us and then cackled again. Pointing to the sleeping man, she smiled and in a high-pitched, but quiet voice said in her own language, "Bạn truyền cảm hứng cho chúng tôi. Cảm ơn bạn…" she bowed slightly and then followed with a hesitant, "_Tank you_."

Carlos actually laughed out loud and then bowed a second time. He reached for her gnarled bony hand and kissed it, "Muchas gracias, señora más graciosa." [_Thank you, most gracious lady_.] She giggled and I swear, she blushed.

Once again, Carlos hoisted me over his shoulder and opened the door. I waved to our neighbor, knowing she would soon be listening to more of my cries of passion as my ravishment commenced. I couldn't believe how uninhibited I'd become in one wild glorious night.

Carlos started back toward our room, but we could hear voices coming from that direction. He swung around and sprinted for the stairwell. Careful not to let the heavy door hit me, he slowly let it close behind us trying to ease it shut so the telltale click wouldn't be heard.

The stairwell was eerily quiet. We stood there for a full minute, barely breathing. Hearing nothing, Carlos' full attention was now on me. Sliding me down his chest, Carlos began a slow assault on my body, kissing every exposed bit of my tingling skin. I did nothing to impede his progress toward my pleasure center, but I did wonder who had been out in the hallway.

"Um…_Zorro_…who are we running from?"

Carlos was now standing in back of me, his mouth laying wet kisses along the nape of my neck while his hands closed around my waist. A muffled "polícia del hotel' came from nibbling lips that were creating a slow burn in my nether regions. Hotel police? Oh, hotel security. Not good. Someone must have reported a masked man carting around a shrieking woman on the eighth floor. How would we explain it if we got caught?

'_Hey, guys, we were just playing this little sex fantasy game called Anything Goes and the costume and kidnapping were just part of a little role playing. You know how it is, don't you?'_-_wink, wink, nudge, nudge_.' Yeah right. I'm sure that would go over big. And it would sure kill the mood. Plus, I knew Carlos would do everything in his power to deliver me my last fantasy by not getting caught. He was one determined man on a mission. And I, for one, appreciated all his efforts.

Like now. Even with the threat of getting caught by hotel security with Carlos wearing a makeshift mask and big Z painted on his naked chest, he was still deep in the game turning me on with his hot kisses, roaming hands and whispered words in Spanish. My stomach, on the other hand, wasn't cooperating. A loud growl broke the silence. The kisses stopped for a split second and I felt Carlos' forehead lean against the back of my head. Even I knew what his next words meant. "_¡Ay, caramba!_" [_Oh, crap!_]

**TBC**

_AN__:__ The link to the Flickr page with the photo gallery illustrating this story is posted at the bottom of our profile page. We will add a few pictures every chapter, for those who enjoy the visuals. And yes, the next chapter will continue with Fantasy #12._


	19. Chapter 19 Chapter 103

**CHAPTER 103**

_Stephanie's POV_

"Wait… what the…? You can't stop there, Stevie?" Tina cried, as I got out of bed, Blackie tagging along behind me. "Get your ass back in bed and finish this… _esta fantasia jodamente_!" [_this fucking fantasy_]

"I'm hungry!" I complained. "My stomach still isn't cooperating. Can't you hear it growling? Food first…then more fantasy."

Tina and I ran to the kitchen, with Blackie dashing between our legs. We grabbed the leftover pizza and some cokes from the fridge and a doggie chewy for Blackie and hurried back to my bedroom. Tina let me get a few bites of greasy pepperoni and crusty dough in my belly and let a few sips of ice cold cola burn down my throat, before she demanded I tell her the rest of the fantasy. I heaved a big sigh and set the half-eaten piece of pizza on its paper towel and continued…

. . .

I tore open my last chocolate bar, while Carlos resumed nuzzling my neck and his hands massaged my breasts through my bra. Hey, a girl has to keep up her strength, doesn't she? The peanut butter cup lasted less than ten seconds and then I was ready for some serious Zorro riding.

Carlos continued fondling my breasts and whispered, "Tus senos son tan suave y tus pezones son tan sensibles. Me hace loco." [_Your breasts are so soft and your nipples so responsive. You drive me crazy_.] His Spanish sent chills through me, but unfortunately, that was the moment when Carlos' hand grasped my left breast a little too firmly and something dug into my flesh.

"Ow!" I cried.

Carlos pulled his hand out from under my shirt and held a flat white object in front of my face. _The key card!_ I started laughing. I couldn't help myself. He flipped me around and glared at me through the mask, firing off a string of Spanish words in rapid succession. I doubted they were words of endearment or seduction, but his angry tone and smoldering glares were definitely fueling my lust and I was in desperate need for some hot passionate love-making.

"I know I ordered Spanish for this fantasy, but that was for the purpose of seducing me, _not chastising me_," I fired back. He was breathing heavily, though not because he was turned on. He was still angry over finding the card. I'd have to change that. I let my hands glide over his abs and stroked my way up to his pecs making sure my thumbs slowly rubbed over his hardening nipples. I leaned forward and flicked my tongue over one hard nub and then repeated the action with the other nipple. Lifting my eyes to his, I ran my tongue over my lips and gave him a wicked grin.

I could only see his eyes through the mask and they were turning from chocolate brown to black with desire. They closed for a second and he let out a big sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was low and sexy.

"Si, mi amor. Mi solamente deseo está por favor a tú." [_Yes, my love. My only wish is to please you._] He ran his hand up my thigh underneath the loose-fitting boxers I was wearing. He didn't make me beg for it, he went straight for the good stuff. When his thumb started stroking my clit, I let out a low moan and my knees dipped a little. He continued, "¿Estas le satisface, mi señorita hermosa?" [_Does this please you, my beautiful lady?_]

"Omigod. That feels _sooooo _good." I could feel the slow burn building deep within my belly. I could also feel one large rock-hard cock pressing into my back. We were both monumentally turned on. Carlos continued to stroke my clit with one hand while the other was rolling and squeezing my nipples. I moaned with pleasure…every place he touched me was super sensitive and tingled long after his fingers moved on. And the continual whispers of Spanish in my ear were making me hotter and hornier by the second. I spread my legs a little and his fingers found their way to my vagina. Between the nipple tweaking, clit rubbing and now pussy stroking, my head was spinning and my body writhing.

Carlos uttered my name and it sounded like he was coaxing me. "Estefania, dejate vaya. Ven por mí. Que es…Me encanta sentir que moverse y bailar bajo mi toque. Vienes, Babe, subsirse a la ola." [_Stephanie, let go. Come for me. That's it…I love to feel you move and dance under my touch. Come, Babe, ride the wave_.] My breath was coming in short gasps and I knew the big finish was close. It was a good thing he was holding me tightly to him or I would have sunk to the ground.

Suddenly, from the floor below, the stairwell door opened and then banged shut. Of course, my orgasm picked that moment to peak and I let out a series of high-pitched whimpers. The sound of footsteps could be heard as someone made their way up the stairs.

Carlos let out a quiet curse, _"¡Maldito!_" [_Damn!_] My contractions were still coursing through my lower half when he threw me over his shoulder once again and flung open the door to the hallway.

Racing toward our room, key in hand, Carlos started laughing. I guess he finally saw some humor in our situation. He was still laughing when he thrust the card into its slot. The little green light couldn't come fast enough for me. The stairwell door opened just as Carlos pushed in our door. Darting in, Carlos closed the door quietly and then put me down. He doubled over, both hands clasped around his middle as his body shook with laughter. It was infectious and I started laughing too, though mine was more from nervous release. After we finally stopped laughing, Carlos drew me to him and kissed my forehead.

"Babe, nunca decepciona." [_Babe, you never disappoint_.]

I put my hands on his cheeks and pulled his face down to mine. Our kiss started out slow and tender, but rapidly built in intensity. Breathing heavily, we looked into each other's eyes and I could see his love shining back at me. This simple little fantasy of mine had taken a turn into the Hilton version of the Twilight Zone, but Carlos, aka Zorro, had pulled us through every weird twist and turn.

"I can't believe you aren't mad at me. I stole the room key from your pocket so I could eat my candy bars before we made love. I made you search the hallway for it while I indulged my sweet tooth." A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. I continued my self-denigrating rant.

"We nearly got caught by security. _Twice!_ And then the detour with our Vietnamese neighbors and the close call on the stairs. I'm a menace. No sane man would ever put up with me." With my apologetic declaration finished, he gave me his full-on 200-watt smile.

"¿Quién dijo que era sano?" [_Who said I was sane?_], he replied, still smiling. I had no idea what he said, but it sure sounded sexy.

"Carlos, you're an amazing man. How did I get so lucky? I love you so much."

This time I didn't hold back when I kissed him. I aggressively Frenched him and dug my fingernails into his bare back pulling him tightly against me.

Growl after growl sounded deep in his throat as he forcefully picked me up and strode over to the bed, saying, "La fantasía no ha terminado todavía, mi amante hambriento chocolate. Creo que están seducido bien ... ahora, violar a tú." [_The fantasy isn't over yet, my chocolate-hungry lover. I think you are well seduced…now, for the ravishing._]

I wasn't sure, but I thought he was saying it was time to complete the rest of my fantasy. "I'm more than ready. Ravish away, Zorro," I commanded.

We fell into bed together, Carlos on top. True to his in-charge nature, he lowered his body to mine and began kissing me. Starting with the sensitive spot behind my ear, he kissed, nibbled, licked, and then whispered something in hot, blood-pounding Spanish, before he moved on to the next erotic zone. When he finally reached my mouth, I practically attacked him with my lips and tongue, but he gave as good as he got.

I couldn't wait to feel him inside me, but I wanted to be on top. I wanted to ride Zorro like there was no tomorrow because for us, there wasn't. But I couldn't think about that. There was only right now. _Live in the moment, Steph._

I gripped his upper arms and slowly pushed him to the side. Fortunately, he let me guide him. Otherwise, I'd just be trying to push a brick wall… though he was a gorgeous, muscular brick wall.

Straddling him, I reached forward and untied the cape from his neck, and kissed the faint mark it left. I couldn't resist tasting him again and pressed my open mouth over his. He immediately explored my mouth with his tongue, until I took control and sucked on it, giving it a playful nip. That led to an aggressive round of him marking my neck with a series of hickeys as he proclaimed, "¡Eres mio! Todos mio." [_You're mine! All mine_.] The kisses got hot and heavy after that, our breathing reduced to ragged gasps.

I wrenched myself upright and Carlos immediately unbuttoned my shirt. We quickly divested each other of the rest of our clothes, except for Carlos' mask. I could still see his beautiful eyes shining through the cloth slits, but I liked the aura of mystery the mask evoked.

Knowing I was in control of the moment, I gave him a wicked grin as I wriggled on top of him. I could feel him, hard and huge under me, as I rubbed myself against him. I loved having this powerful, gorgeous man at my mercy. But suddenly, I felt a stinging slap on my butt and heard Carlos command, "Giddyup!"

Shocked, I stopped moving and gasped. Carlos grabbed my ass cheeks and held me still. Returning my wicked grin, he murmured what sounded like the same thing he'd said to me by the vending machine, when I slapped his butt. "Recuperación es una perra, mi querida." [_Payback's a bitch, my dear_.]

I deserved the slap, I guess, but I still had him where I wanted him. And I really, _really _wanted him. Using the pads of my fingers, I lightly caressed his abs and then pressed the palms of my hands firmly down his sides massaging and stroking as I went. I could feel his response in the growing bulge underneath me and in his hands kneading my ass. Our playfulness turned serious as our grins dropped away, replaced with open desire and an overwhelming need for each other.

And so, finally naked, together in the relative safety of our hotel room, we began the dance…the dance of love. I luxuriated in the feel of his smooth hard body under me and slowly rubbed my crotch over his firm cock, still amazed by its massive size. Carlos spoke softly to me, his voice reaching my very soul as he poured out his love for me in his native language. For a moment, it was as if I was hypnotized, struck still listening to the soft sexy cadence of his voice. Each word he spoke sent shivers through my tense body.

Carlos' voice saying, "Babe," brought me back to earth. The expression on his face matched the urgency in his voice as he handed me the last little foil wrapped package and uttered, "El ultimo. Quiero estar dentro de ti, _ahora_." [_The last one. I need to be inside you, now._]

I stopped my slow torture of his body and tore open the foil. With the last condom in place, I slid myself down his XXXL cock, its girth stretching me to the max. I threw back my head as the intensity of the sensation of him filling me so completely, threatened to overwhelm me.

I thought this fantasy would be all about a hot torrid ride of sex and lust, but instead it was slow and sensuous. There was no pounding up and down or a wild ride on Zorro. In its place was a more subtle experience, like riding ocean waves or a merry-go-round, but considerably more stimulating.

I started a slow sinuous undulation, rolling my hips forward and back, over and over, while my hands caressed his stomach and chest. I could feel him inside me, stroking every part of me, the friction nearly unbearable. He had to be feeling the same thing. I shook myself out of my own little world and gazed at my Latin lover.

Carlos's eyes were locked on my face, taking in every little change in my expression and reacting to every moan and sigh I made. His hands caressed my thighs and he gently arched himself into me on each of my forward rolls. Judging from the intense look on his face, he was close to being swept away himself.

Unable to remain passive any longer, he pulled me down to him and took my right breast into his mouth, rolling the nipple between his tongue and roof of his mouth. The suction and pressure was gentle at first, but soon changed to hard and insistent, even a little painful; then he moved to the other breast and started all over again. All the while I was driving his cock deep inside me and pulling out to the very tip before rolling back onto him.

When he finally released my breasts, Carlos continued to speak words of love between his groans and growls. I loved hearing his voice as he spoke in Spanish to me, but it had become more than just part of a sensual fantasy. There was honest emotion behind each word and I could see the love in his eyes. I realized he was telling me what was in his heart and I knew it was the first time for him. And it was the first time I believed the words, or at least the intention behind the words.

I honestly thought I could understand much of it. I was beginning to pick out key words he used. 'Mi corazón' I knew meant 'my heart,' 'mi vida' was 'my life' and 'nuestras almas' had something to do with the soul.

I grinned when I heard him utter 'singame,' which he'd told me earlier was Cuban for 'fuck me.' I'd have to remember to ask him about the phrase 'tú coño es suave como la seda.' From my job as a lingerie buyer, I knew suave meant soft and la seda was silk, but I could only guess what coño meant [_coño is_ _slang for vagina/pussy_].

Of course, 'te amo' meant 'I love you.' When _he_ said it, though, it took on new meaning for me, and his low sexy voice made everything he said thrilling and incredibly arousing.

His voice held a note of awe in it and that was exactly how I felt, too. How could I love this man so deeply after only knowing him for less than half a day? My heart was so full, it felt like it would burst into a thousand pieces.

I could feel my orgasm nearing and sped up my movements. Carlos' strong hands were on my hips, steadying me… guiding me. That's what I needed. Someone to lightly hold me and keep me steady while I learned to fly. And I felt like I was flying now. Our bodies were moving in a synchronous fashion, joined together by eleven inches of pure bliss. Our love-making felt effortless.

His hips were thrusting upward meeting every down stroke of my body. With each thrust, he pushed deeper and deeper into me, but there was no pain, only pleasure. His speed doubled and then tripled, and then I was hanging on for dear life. I was truly riding Zorro now and he was a wild stallion, a bucking bronco. Our bodies were slippery with sweat as our sensuous exertions continued. The only sounds I could make were inarticulate gasps of pleasure that reached near screaming level, but Carlos still managed to get out an occasional yell in Spanish, fueling my passion. I didn't want it to end, but a body could only take so much ecstasy.

A burst of white light flashed in my eyes and an exquisite but brief fusion of pain and pleasure exploded within me. With a loud drawn out cry of, "_Carrrlos!_" my thighs tightened against his hips and I let go. His voice rough with passion, Carlos commanded, "Open your eyes…look at me, Babe."

Time seemed suspended. The incredible sensations coursing through my body made it an effort, but I opened my eyes and locked them onto his, gazing deeply into his beautiful brown eyes masked in black silk… eyes filled with love… and hope… and my future.

I could feel each strong contraction of my vagina as it closed around him and I could feel his cock pulse with his own release. Unable to stay upright any longer, I collapsed on top of him.

Carlos was softly uttering, "Estefania… Estefania… mi amor… mi vida," [_my love… my life_] and his strong hands stroked my back. The orgasm went on and on, finally lessening in strength until I could breathe normally again. Carlos held me tightly to him and I could feel the rise and fall of his chest and his heart beating against mine. It took several minutes before either of us had the breath to speak.

I lifted my head slightly so I could see his expressive face. "That might not have been the Doomsday Orgasm, but it was a hell of a powerful ride, Zorro. Maybe the best one yet." I reached over and slowly slid the mask off his face so I could see all of him, the man I loved with all my heart and soul.

He rolled me to his side, his arms still wrapped tightly around me. As we lay side by side basking in the afterglow of amazing sex, Carlos dropped the Spanish.

The grin he wore blossomed into a full-on smile as he told me, "The best is still yet to come, I promise." He lightly kissed the top of my head. "You're quite the equestrienne, Babe, and you can ride me anytime. Though, if you don't mind, I could really use a short nap before we do it again."

"Did I tucker _Superman_ out?" I quipped.

"You definitely live up to your name, _Wonder Woman_," he replied.

We continued spooning and then a thought crossed my mind. "Carlos, I know you speak English and Spanish, but you don't speak Vietnamese, too, do you? I mean, you seemed to understand what our next door neighbor said."

"I understand a little of many languages. Part of the job."

"What did she say?" I asked.

He chuckled, "She said we inspired them. I believe she was referring to she and her husband's, uh, late night activities. And then she thanked us."

I giggled and snuggled into his chest, happy that at least one of our neighbors 'appreciated' _our_ night's strenuous and vocal activities.

After a few minutes of gently stroking my back, Carlos' questioning "Stephanie?" made me raise my head and look at him again.

He continued, "As amazing as these twelve 'Anything Goes' fantasies have turned out, and I love how game you've been, there is so much more to the love I have for you. I've fallen in love with everything about you." He kissed the tip of my sweaty nose. "_Mmmm,_ salty and sweet at the same time." His lips smacked as if he'd just finished a treat. And then he continued, "You are really quite adventurous and daring… and funny… and _wildly_ unpredictable." His voice deepened, "I love your insistence for total honesty, your compassion and empathy, and your unwavering trust and belief in me."

He laid a soft kiss on my lips. "You are beautiful inside and out and your love of life shines through in everything you do. I can't ever remember smiling or laughing as much as I have with you. I haven't had much to smile about. Until you came into my life. You've given me hope… no… you've given me conviction that you and I have a future together."

Hearing him speak those last words, especially, brought tears to my eyes. He now believed in our love and not the 90 percent fatality prediction. _I knew_ our love would bring him safely home to me.

Gazing up at him, I avowed, "I love you, Carlos. I will always love you. _Never doubt it_." I punctuated that statement by placing his hand over my heart. "And if you remember nothing else about this night, remember my love for you and our commitment to a future together. You _will _come home to me. Our future together is a reality, not a dream."

His eyes were now hooded, drowsy with the aftermath of our exertions. "Te amo, también, Babe, siempre y para siempre." [_I love you, too, Babe,_ _always and forever._]

He pressed his lips against my forehead and when I raised my head to capture one last kiss, he was already asleep. My head dropped back to his chest and I joined him in dreamland.

. . .

I looked over at Tina. She had tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Stevie… that was simply beautiful. You are _soooo_ lucky to have him. I can only hope my Lester is half as romantic and wonderful as your Carlos." She reached for a handful of tissues and blew her nose. "He _is_ going to come home to you. Don't ever doubt it, girl. I can feel it in my bones."

We hugged and then ate the rest of the cold pizza. Tina went back to her room to get ready for the day and Blackie trotted after her. I got up and smoothed out the duvet on my bed. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. As I bent to pick it up, I saw the handwriting. It was my New Year's Eve letter from Carlos. Mateo had brought it with him last night and given it to me along with the martini charm.

I had been in such a desperate state that I'd snatched the letter out of his hands and raced for my bedroom, leaving Tina to entertain Mateo. I had to read it immediately; I needed to touch something that Carlos had touched. I needed proof that he was real and that he loved me. Sometimes, my own memories and thoughts just weren't enough.

Needing to read his words of love to me again, I lay on the bed, trembling as I held his letter to my lips, sniffing heavily, hoping to catch even a whiff of him. I carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

_My dearest Babe,_

_Happy New Year's Eve, Querida! How I wish I was holding you in my arms, dancing with you, waiting for midnight. When the clock strikes twelve, feel my arms around you and my lips on yours and I will imagine you are in my arms, too. I will smell your sweet fragrance and feel the softness of your lips on mine. _

_Tonight, pretend we are at a party with lots of people around us. It is a costume party and I am wearing a mask. I glide up behind you and you whirl around and give a little shriek when you see me, dark and mysterious and unexpected. Like our last fantasy when I surprised you in the hotel hallway in front of the vending machines. I will sweep you off your feet and, __**this time**__, nothing will stop us from tumbling into bed where I will speak sweet words of love and seduction in Spanish to you. Then we will make slow and sensual love for hours culminating in a fast furious joining that sends both of us into endless throes of ecstasy. Dios, I love you so much, Babe, it hurts!_

_This new year will be a fantastic one for you, Stephanie. You will learn to fly so high, you will leave behind all the people who try to hold you back in life…who try to crush your dreams. I know you. I know you will rise above it all. And when I return, and __**I will**__ return to you, Babe, you will be so successful I'll have to run to keep up with you. Live each day to the fullest so that when I come home to you, it will truly be Superman coming home to Wonder Woman._

_I am counting the days until we can begin our new life together._

_Te amo, Babe, siempre y para siempre,_

_Carlos_

I folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. I sat on the bed with his letter pressed against my heart and said a prayer for his safe and speedy return to me. Placing this new letter in my treasures box along with all the others, a warmth flooded my body. I knew Carlos was thinking of me at that very moment. It would have to be enough for now. _Happy New Year, my love!_

. . .

Somewhere, in a remote village in Iraq, one Hassaan Azzaam, aka Marc Pardo aka Carlos Mañoso, gazed at the night stars out the window of a small house that looked just like all the rest of the buildings on the dusty narrow street. With his dark skin and eyes and flawless Arabic, he too, nearly blended in with the other villagers. His brooding good looks and forceful presence, though, made everyone stop and look a second time.

But right now he was alone and instead of the blank expression he usually showed the world, he was smiling. The memory of one spectacular night in October in a Jersey hotel was being vividly replayed in his mind.

He remembered, in minute detail, the moment he spotted her in the bar and their first flirtatious conversation. Her naiveté and freshness surprised him and her open vulnerability brought out his protective nature. And contrary to that innocence shining so clearly in her face was her unabashed pleasure in each of their lust-filled encounters. She was obviously inexperienced yet so eager to explore her own sexuality.

He relived each of their sexual fantasies they'd enjoyed that endless night playing out the inspired game he'd created, _Anything Goes_. He laughed out loud recalling her domineering Intergalactic Princess, to her request for the Doomsday Orgasm from the Wizard of Ahhs, to her wanton desire to ride a Spanish-speaking Zorro off into sexual bliss. Dios, she had turned him every which way but loose.

But his plans for a one-night stand of sexual satiation took an unexpected turn. The girl he'd planned to bed and then leave wasn't any ordinary beautiful girl. Her unbridled zest for life, her genuine compassion, her total honesty, and her unwavering trust and belief in him all conspired to make him fall deeply and madly in love with her. What was supposed to be the night _that never happened_ turned into an emotion-filled night that happened just in time to change his life. She'd been able to get him to talk not only about himself, but about the mission, the one he'd been sure he'd never return from. He'd never met anyone quite like her before and now he couldn't wait to spend a lifetime learning everything about her.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he uttered, "Ah, Babe…Happy New Year!" He thought to himself, "87 nights away from you, only 462 to go."

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 20 Chapter 104

**CHAPTER 104**

_Stephanie's POV_

Finally! It took a while, but by the middle of January, Valerie was actually listening to me and she agreed to see the divorce lawyer in Newark whom Mateo had recommended. Jocelyn Peters, of the law firm Hartwell, Peters and Brooke was every bit as kick-ass as Mateo had described her. She even agreed to meet with us on a Saturday, because Val couldn't afford to take time off from her job during the week.

Val's job sucks! She's been working a full nine-hour shift at the personal products plant for the past several weeks and she comes home exhausted. Her boss is a real bitch-on-wheels who harasses her from the moment she clocks in until the second before she clocks out. She sounds a lot like my old boss, Mrs. Lebowitz, at the now defunct E.E. Martin. Of course, our mother is thrilled to have Angie and Mary Alice with her before and after school every day, but she's been making Val feel like such a failure, which is odd because she usually reserves such treatment for me.

Honestly, I must say Mateo is a genius. Jocelyn Peters is exactly the right lawyer to handle Val's divorce; she's one of the few divorce lawyers my mother couldn't possibly have anything against. Although she uses her maiden name for professional purposes, Jocelyn is happily married to John Delucca, one of the Assistant District Attorneys in Trenton. Everyone in the Burg knows and respects his family. Delucca's parents even attend the same church as my mother and grandmother. I could hardly wait to see how my mother reacted to this new development!

"Welcome, welcome. Come on in," Jocelyn said when we entered her downtown Newark office. "I'm so glad to meet both of you. Mateo is a very good friend of mine." With a warm smile, she shook our outstretched hands.

After we introduced ourselves, we sat down in the soft leather chairs in front of the lawyer's desk and she smiled at us. I studied the beautifully framed diplomas and other documents, which were artfully arranged on the walls of the office. Her undergraduate degree was a double major of Pre-Law and Psychology and she had graduated from Yale Law School. She was licensed to practice divorce law not only in New Jersey and New York, but also in Pennsylvania, Delaware and Connecticut. After five minutes in her presence, it was easy to see why Jocelyn was so successful. The woman was calm and serene, yet she exuded an aura of supreme confidence. Her opponents in the courtroom probably underestimated her all the time.

"Thanks so much for seeing me, especially on a Saturday, Ms. Peters," Val murmured shyly.

"Please, call me Jocelyn," she replied.

"Okay, Jocelyn," Val agreed and then she launched into her explanation. "It's very kind of you to consider taking on my case, but I don't know if you can really help me. You see, my husband, Steve, already took everything of value in our marriage when he ran away with our babysitter. Mother assures me that since I'm the one who abandoned my home to come back to New Jersey, I'll probably get nothing in a divorce settlement. In fact, she says it would be best if I tried harder for reconciliation, but I'm just not sure about anything anymore."

Jocelyn nodded sympathetically and said, "Well, Valerie, all due respect to your mother, but why don't you let me be the judge of what's best? After all, I _am_ the professional when it comes to divorces – not your mother. Let's start at the beginning; tell me everything you can about your husband, your marriage, and what happened to make it fall apart."

I could have hugged Jocelyn for the way she put my sister at ease while she told her story. The lawyer wrote lots of notes as Val spilled her guts and she asked intelligent, helpful questions. She certainly didn't chastise Val for not being a 'good' wife, the way my mother always did. Still, as I listened to her speak, I wanted to hit my sister for being such an oblivious doormat in her marriage.

It soon became very clear about all the psychological damage Val's soon-to-be-ex-husband had done to her. I couldn't help but wonder why she'd listened to the idiotic advice our mother had given her all these years. Then again, my mother had wanted me to patch up things with Dickie, even after all the crap he dished out. What a piece of work!

"So, that's when the bank told me our house had gone into foreclosure," Val wrapped up her sad tale. "And I used the last bit of my money to bring myself and my daughters back home to my parents' house. Steve has all the money and he left me with a mountain of debt, a raging case of herpes, now I guess I'm gonna be a single parent, too. I don't know how … how I'm …" And she broke down in tears.

Both Jocelyn and I offered Val tissues from the decorative box on her desk. My sister took both offerings and dabbed at her eyes until she got herself back under control. God, I hated that she could bawl her eyes out and still look so beautiful. Whenever I cry, I get all blotchy and hiccuppy, but Val looked perfectly composed after her brief breakdown. Not fair!

"Well, Valerie," Jocelyn began, "I think I'll be able to help you. I've got a good track record in cases like this. Do you think you'll be able to trust me to handle things?"

Val nodded, but then she looked stricken again as she whispered, "I trust you, but it's obvious – I can't afford you." Tears welled up in her eyes and quietly slid down her cheeks.

Jocelyn's cool green eyes had sparked with anger while she had listened to Val tell the sad tale of her decade-long marriage to Steve the Scumbag. The good news, the lawyer informed us, was that although Val and Steve had lived in California for most of their marriage, since they were married here in New Jersey, it was possible to get a fairly quick divorce. Also, since Steve had so blatantly abandoned Val and the girls, there was a good chance that Jocelyn would be able to negotiate full, uncontested custody of my nieces to Val. Sadly, the whole thing would take time and money, neither of which Val had much of at this point.

Mateo had informed me of the lawyer's usual fees, which were steep, but I told him I'd do whatever I could to help rid my sister of the man who had ruined her life. Now that my career as a fashion designer was taking off, I could afford to help Val pay the lawyer's fees. I caught Jocelyn's eye and discreetly pointed to myself. Obviously, Jocelyn understood and she nodded. Unfortunately, Val took notice and began to protest.

"Oh no," she said. "No, Stephanie. I can't allow you to pay for my divorce. There's been enough humiliation without adding being indebted to my baby sister."

"Val, don't worry about it," I tried to soothe her ruffled pride. "Just consider it a loan."

"A loan?" she cried. "Do you have any idea how long it would take me to repay you? My sucky job at the personal products plant barely pays minimum wage!"

"Then get a better job!" I snapped back at her.

"Who else is gonna hire someone like me?" Val whined. "I've been a housewife since the time I got married. Mom said the only thing I can do is what I'm doing right now."

"Stop listening to Mom!" I growled. "Look where her advice has gotten you! If you had listened to _me_ months ago, instead of her, you wouldn't be in such a mess!"

"Val, Stephanie, please calm down," Jocelyn's soothing voice interrupted our little argument. "I'm sure we can work something out."

I quickly jumped on this and said, "Yes, Val, we can work this out. I want Jocelyn here to nail Steve's balls to the courtroom wall. I want this for you – for you and Angie and Mary Alice. Your daughters don't deserve this crappy situation and neither do you!"

After a long and quiet pause, Val finally nodded and said, "Alright. You guys win. Yes, Jocelyn, I want you to do everything you can to find that rat-fink and make him pay for the way he's destroyed our family. And Stephanie, I promise I'll pay you back, no matter how long it takes."

Before we left her office, Jocelyn asked Val for a little more information about Steve's family background, formal education, and employment history. We made an appointment to return in two weeks. Then we bought coffee and sandwiches from a corner deli Jocelyn recommended before we headed back to Trenton. Val was quiet during most of the drive to the Burg. Only when we were a block away from our parents' house did she open her mouth to speak.

"I can't do this!" Val croaked. "I hate my job, Stephanie. I hate it! It'll take me forever to pay you back for helping me with my divorce, but I don't know how I'm gonna do it. Sometimes I think my girls would be better off without me. I mean, as it is now, I spend all day at work and they're with Mom before and after school every day. On the weekends, Mom has been taking them out to the mall so I can get some rest. It's like I hardly ever see them anymore, so they probably wouldn't miss me if I were gone. Then I remember if I die, they wouldn't get the insurance money – Steve would – and he'd probably get custody of Angie and Mary Alice, too. It's hopeless!"

Alarmed by Val's despair, I said, "Don't you dare let that bastard win! Angie and Mary Alice need you. You're not the one who ran away, so don't give up without a fight. Val, you're a good person. Jocelyn Peters is a great lawyer and she's gonna help you give Steve the legal beat-down he so richly deserves. Trust me. You need to be strong, Val!"

"You make it sound so easy, Stephanie, but it's not," Val replied tiredly. "Try being strong when Mom is nagging at you all the time."

I parked in front of our parents' house and we both sighed in relief as we saw that our mother wasn't waiting on the porch for us. Usually, she would be standing there, as if by some weird maternal radar, waiting for her daughters' return. We had a few more minutes alone before we had to go in and face the music and I was glad.

"You know, Val," I said, trying to think of the right way to say what I'd been thinking about, "I do need more help with my business. We've been swamped with merchandise orders and my IT specialist has been looking into the possibility of outsourcing our Internet catalog operations. How good are your computer skills?"

"What?" she asked, a vague expression clouded her eyes.

I repeated, "How good are your computer skills?"

She shrugged and said, "Okay, I guess. I used to do a lot of Internet shopping when the girls were real little, before … before we got the … the babysitter." I heard her gulp air as she tried to hold back a sob – and failed.

After I handed her a tissue and waited a moment for her to regain her composure, I continued, "What would you think about taking a job working on _Babe!_ catalog orders from home? Books/Plum Designs sure as hell pays better than the tampon factory and we offer our employees a much better benefits package. You could be at home when the girls are awake and do your work during their school hours and even after they go to bed, if you like."

"I don't know…" Val hedged.

"Oh, come on," I urged, "I know you don't want to do what you're doing now. This is a way out, Val. It could be the start of something big for you. Save your money, and before you know it, you'd be able to afford to move out and get a place of your own for you and the girls."

Val nibbled her lower lip and said, "I foresee living with Mom and Dad for quite a while. It'll take so long for me to reimburse you for the divorce."

"Maybe," I shrugged. "But maybe not. We don't know exactly how much it'll cost, yet. Daddy helped me pay for my divorce; I bet he'd help you, too, if you ask him."

Val shook her head. "I don't want to ask Daddy for divorce money. It's already enough that he's allowing me and my girls to live under his roof, free of charge."

"Yes, but we both know Daddy would never charge you to live at home. He just wants peace and quiet back in his house," I said. "If Grandma Mazur and Wilbur weren't already living in my old apartment, I'd offer it to you, but I think Daddy'd rather have you and the girls under his roof than Grandma any day of the week."

"If I could work from home," Val said as a hopeful look crept into her eyes, "I'd be able to help out with the girls and with cleaning around the house more. That would make life a little bit easier for him and Mom."

"Yes," I agreed. "And my company could even set up a little payment plan directly out of your monthly paycheck. That way, your take-home pay would be yours to do whatever you want to do and not have to worry about writing me a check every month. Think about it, Val."

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," she said. Then she sat bolt upright and declared, "I'll do it! I'll work for your catalog department and pay you back for my divorce as quickly as I can. Mom won't be happy, but she'll get over it."

"Great!" I exclaimed. "I'll have our HR department draw up a contract for you on Monday. Then you can give your two weeks' notice at the plant and begin working for Books/Plum in time for the Valentine's Day crush."

A light snow had begun to fall, so we got out of my wonderful, warm silver Porsche and hurried inside the house. Our father was sitting in his favorite chair, watching a program about guerilla warfare on the History Channel. Thankfully, our mother was nowhere to be seen. Other than the steady drone of the television, the house was eerily quiet. We shook off our coats and went into the living room.

"Hi, Daddy," Val said as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek first. "Where're Mom and the girls?"

"Out," Dad said in his typical gruff way when it was my turn to kiss him. "How'd your meeting with the lawyer go?"

"Good," we both replied in unison. We sat down on the couch and then Val explained everything, including my job offer.

Our father turned to look at me and asked, "You'd do all that for your sister?"

Surprised by his question, I quickly replied, "Yes, of course."

He just nodded and returned his attention to the television. He didn't look at us as he said, "Listen, both of you. Your mother already isn't happy about this divorce, even though it's absolutely necessary. And she ain't gonna be happy about you workin' for your sister, Valerie. Here's what we're gonna do to keep the peace around here. Just tell your mother you got an at-home job by answerin' one of those ads in the newspaper. I'll find a listing in today's paper that looks feasible and take care of the rest."

We both nodded.

Then I gasped and said, "One of my company's computer technicians will need to install a new phone line as well as a new computer terminal here."

Dad considered this and, after a long moment of silence, he said, "Stephanie, when you send your computer guy over to install the new stuff, make sure he ain't wearin' a company shirt and don't put any of your company logos on any of the equipment, okay? Valerie's gonna need a lockable filing cabinet to keep all her papers and order forms and such away from snoops."

"It'll be hard to keep this kind of secret," Val said fearfully.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Dad said firmly. "I'm gonna start lookin' for some kind of affordable place for you and the little ones to move into sooner rather than later. It'll be for the best. Now, not a word of this to your mother or your grandmother, do you girls understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," we said in unison, the way we used to when we were schoolgirls.

Two weeks later, Val and I returned to Jocelyn Peters' office and she gave us an update on the status of the divorce proceedings. She had subpoenaed all of Steve's tax records – both business and personal – for the past decade and was well on her way toward building a very strong case against Val's ex-to-be. Although it was highly unlikely that Val would ever receive a dime from the slimeball, she would gain full custody of Angie and Mary Alice. And if Steve ever set foot back on United States soil, he'd be arrested for tax evasion and fraud. The final divorce decree would take a while, but Val's mind was at ease.

A few days after our second meeting with the divorce lawyer, my father and some of his friends from the cab company he worked for part-time moved Val and her girls into a small, two-bedroom apartment about two miles from my parents' house. Everything happened so fast! Of course, my mother was just as upset about the move as she had been about the divorce. On a positive note, Mom was somewhat appeased when she learned Angie and Mary Alice wouldn't have to change schools again. Besides, they all still lived in the Burg – unlike me, the traitorous daughter who lived elsewhere now.

The night Val moved into her new place, my mother called me five times and I refused to pick up all five times. Of course, I always checked the caller ID on my phone before answering, so I knew it was her. She finally left a ranting message, which I listened to and then promptly deleted. I could still hear her shrill voice in my memory when I stepped into the shower to wash away the grime of the day.

"_Stephanie Michelle Plum, this is your mother – again," _said the voice in the message_. "Now you've really done it! Valerie has moved into her own apartment and she's taken Angie and Mary Alice with her. I don't know how she's going to pay for it on the salary from her new home-based job, but I do know it's your fault for filling her head with such rebellious thoughts. Her job at the personal products plant was perfectly fine until she started listening to you..."_

Hah! I thought. Anyone with half a brain could see that Val had been sinking deeper and deeper into a terrible depression. Hell, I'd want to shoot myself if I had to accept such an embarrassing job. I rolled my eyes as my mother's message continued.

"…_and I can't believe she let you talk her into getting a divorce!_" her voice raised an octave as she continued. "_Everything was going to work out fine until you stuck your nose into Valerie's business. Now she's not only convinced she'll never get back together with Steve, but she thinks she and the girls will be better off without him. I blame you for putting such nonsense into her head..._"

I gritted my teeth. If only Val had listened to me sooner, perhaps she wouldn't be in such a dire predicament. It took all my patience to finish listening to the ridiculous rant. Then I wished I'd just deleted it instead.

"_You're a bad influence, Stephanie Michelle Plum, and I hope you'll be happy with yourself when your horrible advice causes your sister heartache! Again, this is your mother," _she sighed as though she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders_. "Call me when you get this message."_

Ugh! I had no intention of returning my mother's calls. After my shower, I made a light dinner of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Hey, what can I say? Old habits die hard. I also fed Blackie a little of the macaroni to go with his dry kibble. I think he was in doggie heaven. Then we cuddled up together on the couch and watched a bit of mindless television before we went to bed. My cute little friend is such a comfort to me. He knows when I need to have fun and he knows when I need some TLC. Tonight definitely was a TLC night.

A few days after Val settled in to her new place, I sent our company's computer technician, Alberto Guarino, over to install a company phone line and the computer equipment Val would need to do her new job. I don't know exactly what happened, but when Alberto returned to our office building, he came right up to my office and asked to speak with me. At first I was concerned there had been some sort of problem. After two minutes of listening to Alberto wax poetic about how great my sister was, I could tell that he was completely head over heels for Val. Poor man! I sent him on his way, warning him to go very, very slowly with our new Internet catalog sales person.

When Alberto was gone, I strolled over to Dawson's office to let him know that Val's computer terminal was now operational and she should be ready to begin processing catalog orders within a week. Not surprisingly, when I opened the door, my future grandmother-in-law and Dawson's lovely fiancée, Rosa, was sitting next to him at his desk. They both looked up from the huge open binder of sample wedding invitations in front of them and smiled brightly at me as I approached them.

"Ah, Stephanie," Rosa exclaimed, "How delightful it is to see you again! Perhaps you can help us pick out our wedding invitations, yes?"

Dawson waved a hand, indicating that I should pull up a chair and sit with them as they perused the various samples. "These are the only options we have for a rush job," he explained. "As you know, Valentine's Day is right around the corner. We need to get these invitations into the mail as soon as possible. Of course, we should have had them out by the end of last month, but we've been overwhelmed with everything else."

"Oh wow, you're right," I said. "I guess I wasn't thinking about all the things you're trying to do between now and then."

Since I was woefully behind in choosing my own wedding invitations, I decided to take this opportunity and do some research for myself as well. Dawson, Rosa and I all sat in companionable silence as we considered the different papers and script fonts. Tina and I had planned to visit some of the local print shops the previous weekend, but it had snowed, so we used that feeble excuse to stay inside and drink hot chocolate all day.

"I've been meaning to ask you something, Stephanie," Dawson broke the silence after five or so minutes. "Would you honor me by standing in as my … 'Best Man' of sorts?"

"What?" I exclaimed.

Dawson smiled and explained, "As you know, I have no children of my own to stand with me. My best friend from my college days passed away several years ago. My only sister and her husband already have plans to attend a very important conference out of the country that week and won't be able to get back in time for the wedding. I could ask my lawyer, Peter Swifford, to be my Best Man, but that would seem tacky. You have become one of my dearest friends, Stephanie. I can think of no one else I'd rather have next to me while I marry the love of my life."

I felt moisture in my eyes and said, "I would be honored to be your Best Man, Dawson. Thank you for asking me. Um, will I have to wear a tux?"

"Oh, no," Dawson chuckled. "We want everyone to be comfortable at our wedding, so it's not going to be a formal affair. One of your dark suits with a pretty blouse will be quite fine."

"I am wearing a fuchsia pink suit jacket with a long black skirt for the wedding ceremony," Rosa said. "The flowers in Dawson's boutonniere will be the same color as my jacket. Teresa will be my Matron of Honor and she plans to wear a long black skirt and jacket with a blouse that matches my jacket. Perhaps you could do the same?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "I like that idea! Now I just need a fuchsia shirt and a suit with a long black skirt. Time to go shopping!"

We all laughed and returned to the invitation book.

"Look here, ladies," Dawson said and he pointed out a gorgeous font. "What do you think of this one? And that paper – the dark pink matches the color of Rosa's jacket, doesn't it? I think the black envelopes would be nice, too, matching the rest of Rosa's wedding ensemble and my tux."

Nodding, I carefully said, "Yes, that would be lovely, Dawson, but aren't you a little concerned about, well, about the image of your, um, manliness? No offense to Rosa, but I mean, don't you think that's an awful lot of pink?"

Dawson tilted his head back and laughed aloud. "Oh my dear, you are too funny!" he said when he'd finally settled down and wiped moisture from the corners of his eyes. "I am a man who has worked in the field of women's undergarments my entire life. I stopped defending my manliness a long time ago, Stephanie. As long as Rosa knows I am fully a man – and I do believe she does – then I am confident I can face any commentary about pink wedding invitations."

"Yes, Dawson most definitely is all man," Rosa assured me. "He has protected me, sheltered me and loved me ever since my hard-headed son disgraced me in front of my own family."

"How are things between you and Ricardo these days?" I asked.

Rosa had told me about Teresa's return to Ricardo, but we really hadn't discussed the entire situation, not even during our cooking lessons. We tended to talk about Carlos and our wedding plans and other happy topics during our weekly time together in my kitchen. Still, I thought it was very brave of her to be living in Dawson's home until the wedding and I told her so.

"Tell that to my family! They are so scandalized, poor things," Rosa replied. "But I really do not care what they think anymore. We are all adults and it is high time we all acted like adults. While I do feel sorry for Teresa, I have no intention of returning to Ricardo's household. Despite what he thinks, I am more than capable of running my own life."

"Have you been back to the restaurant yet?" I asked.

Rosa glanced slyly at me and said, "Of course I have. Dawson, too. Why should my son's foolishness prevent us from enjoying the best Cuban cuisine in town? Teresa has been most helpful in letting me know when Ricardo is not there, so we have not had any more unpleasantness. And Dawson has completely charmed Alejandro and the staff. Naturally, everyone except my pig-headed son simply adores my novio."

Somewhat shocked, I said, "I can't believe you've kept this a secret from me! My girlfriends and I have been going to _Rosa's_ for 'Girls Night Out' pretty much every week, but no one has ever mentioned seeing you and Dawson there regularly."

"Stephanie, querida, you must remember, other than the _Babe!_ connection, we are not really supposed to know each other very well," Rosa chuckled. "And you of all people should know how proficient we are at keeping secrets."

"No kidding!" I replied. "And you!" I playfully slapped Dawson's shoulder. "I'm your partner. I thought we were friends. Don't you think it's important that I know your status at all times? How could you keep all these secrets from me?"

Dawson grinned wickedly and said, "You're my _business_ partner. And, yes, we have become the dearest of friends. However, when Carlos returns, we'll see just how forthcoming you are about keeping me well-informed on your romantic status, hmm?"

Then he leaned down and claimed a brief, but highly sensual kiss from his betrothed. Whoa!

Suddenly, I felt very much like an intruder. I cleared my throat and said, "Point taken. Well, then, if the color pink is fine with both of you, I say 'Go for it!' If anyone has a problem with the invitations, then that's _their_ problem. See you two later!" And I made a quick exit, practically running back to my own office.

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 21 Chapter 105

**CHAPTER 105**

_Carlos' POV_

"_Arbaat, thalatha, ithnane, wahid …" [Arabic for "Four, three, two, one …"] _

I quietly counted down the final seconds until the explosion and then exclaimed, "_Allahu akbar!" [God is great!],_ in such a way that the men who were watching me and testing my loyalty to their cause would find very convincing. The improvised explosive device (IED) I'd created – and planted in exactly the right place to go off when our U.S. Special Forces troops drove by on a routine patrol of the area – went off as planned.

I watched in amazement and relief as the American HUMVEE popped into the air, rolled over, and landed upright. Four heavily-armed soldiers got out of the vehicle, searched their immediate area and then began to fire toward my position. Gunfire stuttered through the night and I returned fire toward men I'd sworn to protect and defend. Part of me felt sick to my stomach, but I'd had no choice.

Earlier that day, Bobby and I, in our cover identities of Jamaal Abdullah and Hassaan Azzaam, had met the man who was interrogating our captured CIA cryptographers Justin Hawkins and Robert Bell. Ali Mohammed al-Rashad had sauntered into the small house where we were staying and he bragged that it had taken him only two days to extract the highly-desired Top Secret information out of his American prisoners. Of course, those two cryptographers were no match for al-Rashad. They'd been drugged and kidnapped and secreted out of the U.S. and were scared beyond all reasoning by the time they arrived in Iraq.

"Tonight is a night for celebration!" Ali proclaimed to our small team of men who were gathered around a table and cleaning weapons.

Badr Udeen, our informant and 'sponsor' into the world of Al-Qaeda, squinted up at al-Rashad and growled, "Celebration? Hah! I say it's time to use the information you just got. How do _you _know it's valid, anyway?"

Al-Rashad laughed and said, "It's good that you are so eager, young Badr. I like that. We will be able to test everything within another day or two. We'll get rid of the prisoners once the codes are validated."

"Why so long?" Badr asked. "You say you got good information out of those American dogs and that's a fine thing, but I say it's too dangerous to keep the prisoners here for much longer. What if the American soldiers find out about this location? You know they've been doing regular patrols in this area."

"You'll just have to keep them occupied," replied al-Rashad. "Americans have short attention spans. They're easily distracted."

Badr shook his head in disgust and said, "I don't know how you can stand to spend so much time among the infidels."

"It's not as bad as you might think," al-Rashad shrugged. "Like anyone, they tend to notice only the high and mighty among them. I maintain such a low profile they rarely even see me. It's actually funny when you think about it." Then he turned to me and gave me an appraising look before he spoke, "I'm sure you'll agree with me, Hassaan Azzaam. Don't you think your countrymen are incredibly oblivious?"

"I try not to think about my _former_ countrymen at all," I replied cooly.

"Oh, that's right," grinned al-Rashad. "When you were Marc Pardo, you were among the most marginalized of your former people, even though your family had a considerable amount of money and prestige. And once you became an ex-convict, I'm sure you were even more invisible – except, of course, to officers of the law."

I remained stony-faced and al-Rashad laughed heartily.

"You know, Hassaan," he said, "I have found that it is almost easier for those of us with Middle Eastern backgrounds to move among the Americans if you let them think you are either a light-skinned Black or a Latino."

My blood ran cold and the skin on the back of my neck prickled. I forced myself not to glance at Bobby/Jamaal. Had our covers been blown somehow? Why did al-Rashad make such a comment? Was he suspicious? It was time to play it extremely cool.

"I know exactly what you mean," Bobby/Jamaal said, without missing a beat. "When I was first sent to prison there, the other inmates just assumed I was Black, too. That's what made it so easy to talk to them and make more converts to the true path of Islam. May Allah be praised forever."

Al-Rashad nodded and continued, "Yes, and I have a few friends who have been able to infiltrate the highest of places by letting their foolish American colleagues assume they are something other than what they truly are. Most people over there assume I'm a Latino. I'm not the only one who has learned to speak Spanish flawlessly in order to gain employment in very important places. It's true that mine is not necessarily a prestigious job, but my ability to blend in with the environment is yielding big dividends for our cause. And it's all because most Americans see only what they wish to see."

"Or what they _expect_ to see," Bobby/Jamaal stated with a nod.

"Precisely!" al-Rashad beamed at him.

Clearly, the Iraqi interrogator was glad to have a kindred spirit among us. And it was obvious that he had checked out our background stories. Still, I felt very uneasy around the man, especially when he turned to me and seemed to stare right into my soul.

"Now, about tonight's celebration," al-Rashad began and he rubbed his palms together in anticipation.

"I'm sorry," Badr said sheepishly, "Money has been rather tight lately and we just don't have enough provisions for a proper celebration."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have what we need for this evening's entertainment," al-Rashad laughed again. "After all, the kind of celebration I'm talking about is the kind that starts off with a bang."

My skin began to crawl and my worst fears were confirmed when al-Rashad laid out his plans for the 'evening's entertainment.' Now that he had the ability to break the American communications codes, he wanted to test the validity of the information. First, he wanted to try to listen in on the radio transmissions of one of the nearby U.S. units. If that worked, then al-Rashad wanted us to carry out an attack on an American patrol. This would be his 'celebration' – to use the captured cryptographers' information to cause mayhem right away.

"You! Hassaan!" al-Rashad pointed at me. "It's high time you proved your loyalty to our side. Yes, I've heard of your conversion in prison and I know you've been over here for a while now, but I have a job for you to do. Do you think you're man enough to go through with it?"

I just gave him my iciest stare.

Al-Rashad grinned and said, "We shall see. Tonight. Badr, go over to your cousin's house and get all the supplies we need." Then he bragged to us of his plans to keep the American cryptographers alive until he'd wrung every drop of information from them. He was whistling when he left our house and returned to his own lodgings in a different building to contact his handlers.

Bobby, Badr, and I exchanged glances. We all knew that as soon as al-Rashad verified the codes worked, the life expectancy of the captured cryptographers was nil. This already was a bad situation, but it had the potential of becoming much, much worse. Only God knew how long those poor saps could survive such tortuous treatment. And when al-Rashad was finished with them, we knew we'd have only a slim chance of rescuing Hawkins and Bell. Meanwhile, we'd all have to act our parts as though our lives depended on them, which, of course, they did.

So, that's how we ended up carrying out an attack against our own comrades. Using the captured codes, al-Rashad was able to listen in on the 'dummy' network our Special Forces units had established to make him believe the codes were valid. Once he discovered the route and the time of the next American patrol, he gave us the information. Then he stood around and watched as I put together the IED we planned to use in that evening's attack. I purposely made a few mistakes here and there so that Badr could make a big show of correcting my ineptness.

At one point, al-Rashad smirked at me and said, "I hope that thing works tonight or you'll be spoiling all my fun."

Thankfully, our little skirmish that night was actually just a big 'show.' Since this was one of the scenarios we'd rehearsed when we were back at Fort Bragg, we were able to coordinate the entire operation with one of the local U.S. Special Forces teams. Of course, there were many risks associated with this sort of operation, but every man knew exactly when and where to fire and – more importantly – exactly when and where _not_ to fire. Al-Rashad, the sadistic bastard, had stayed close by to watch me 'prove' myself. I truly wanted to kill him right then and there, but I knew he had to remain alive so we could monitor the progress of our campaign of misinformation.

After several minutes of firing shots back and forth, someone hit a nearby 50-gallon metal barrel. The container must have held some sort of gasoline or oil, because it exploded into a fiery mess. Unfortunately, this wasn't part of our plan, so the SF soldiers removed themselves from the scene as quickly as possible, before any of us really got hurt. I glanced around and saw that al-Rashad was nowhere to be seen.

"Hassaan! Hassaan! We have to move – _now_, my brother!"

Bobby's quiet, but insistent, voice cut through the haze of smoke around me. I nodded grimly and crept backward along the side of the building to maintain adequate cover as he, Badr and I retreated into the shadows. When I wiped the sweat off my brow, I realized I was bleeding. _Shit!_ I must have been hit by a piece of shrapnel when the barrel exploded.

Al-Rashad and his two bodyguards were waiting for us, standing in the shadow of the entryway to our house when we arrived. After taking a deep drag on his cigarette, the man congratulated us on a job well-done. Then he flicked away the cigarette butt, opened his arms toward me and smiled.

"I told you we'd celebrate tonight," he smirked as he clasped my hands. "And I was right. You all did very well – especially you, Hassaan. I can see that you have shed blood for our glorious cause. If all goes well, I will have a very special job for you in the near future."

Lucky me, I'd passed his damn test. Not surprisingly, now that he'd had his first taste of victory in verifying the validity of the codes, al-Rashad gave me and Bobby/Jamaal the task of setting up several ambushes against the American troops. After contacting our SF buddies, who were less than enthusiastic about putting on more 'shows,' we were able to set up three future incidents to convince the local Al-Qaeda cells of their complete success. Although it promised to be a rough couple of weeks, al-Rashad and his handlers had played right into our hands.

**TBC**


	22. Chapter 22 Chapter 106

**CHAPTER 106**

_Tank's POV_

"Dammit, Santos! You're supposed to yell 'Gas, gas, gas!' when you let one rip like that," I growled, waving my hands to disperse the foul air now wafting through our cramped office space. "And lay off the bean burritos, man! You better not be stinkin' up this place the rest of the night, or I'll toss you out on your sorry, smelly ass!"

Lester merely gave me a stiff middle finger salute as he stayed focused on his computer terminal. He growled in frustration and ran his fingers through his blond, short 'mullet' wig, making it stand on end. Since I'd already made several jokes about him looking like a reject from the disco group, 'The Village People,' I didn't think another comment along those lines would help the situation. Besides, with my medium-length afro wig and barely-regulation mustache, I knew I didn't look much better.

We were both dog-tired and going through 'cabin fever' locked up in this cramped office. The sooner we caught the mole, the sooner our friends could come home. And the sooner this mission was complete, the sooner we could get rid of our ridiculous, but necessary, disguises.

The two of us had been working the night shift for Colonel Striker in a secure office building in Rosslyn, VA, disguised as civilian computer geeks, and we were getting closer and closer to finding the mole. Sifting through personnel files and piles of reports was no fun, but we were starting to see certain patterns emerging. It was obvious that most of the CIA employees we'd been assigned to investigate had very little or no involvement with Middle Eastern affairs, so we were able to eliminate them as possible candidates for The Chameleon. With any luck, we'd be able to wrap up this mission quickly and help bring Carlos and the rest of our team home sooner rather than later.

Our current duties also included monitoring certain telephone and satellite communications transmissions to determine how al-Rashad and his contacts were using the outdated security codes. We were able to see the increased message traffic when Carlos and Bobby got into 'firefights' with one of the SF teams that were in place to assist with the plan of deception. Also, we heard the reports of Al-Qaeda operatives using the 'intercepted' data to carry out attacks on locations we had pre-arranged. So far, though, we couldn't tell whether or not The Chameleon was doing anything active here with our false information.

There was a knock on the door and Col. Striker slipped into the office and closed the door behind him. "At ease!" he commanded, as Lester and I began to pop up to the position of attention.

"Yes, sir," we both replied and relaxed back into our chairs.

"How's it coming along?" he asked.

"Sir, we've been able to eliminate seventy-five percent of this personnel roster, so far," I reported, waving at the computer screen. "Nothing in any of these people's backgrounds, or even their work responsibilities, would bring them into contact with the kind of information to which only the cryptologists had access. In fact, I seriously doubt any of these people ever passed through the part of the building where the crypto division was located."

"That narrows the field down to about fifteen names, sir," Lester added, "A few other cryptologists, some biomedical engineers, several lab technicians, and a handful of admin people. After everything we've looked at, we're certain our mole has to be hiding out in this group."

"My money's on it being one of the biomeds," I said.

The colonel's eyebrows raised as he said, "Oh really?"

"Yes, sir. They're the ones who set all the retinal and handprint scans, as well as the voice print access panels and other physiological security measures," I explained. "They're also the ones with access to everyone's DNA."

"Hmm," the colonel murmured as he leaned over and scrolled through the names on the computer screen. He read through our preliminary findings and checked our numbers. At first I thought he was going to make specific comments, but he merely nodded his head before he said, "This is damn fine work. Is there any chance you men would like to be reassigned here to D.C. after we close this case? Of course, your place of duty wouldn't have to be a secure vault like this place, but I'd sure like to have you on my team permanently."

Lester and I glanced at each other. We'd had a lot of good times during our years of serving together in the Army. And we'd had our share of not-so-good times. As much as I loved serving my country, I was ready for a change. It was time to reclaim our true identities and move on to the next phase of life. I was pretty sure Lester felt the same way and he spoke up about it.

"No offense, sir, but, you see, there's this girl back home," Lester began.

Col. Striker snorted and said, "Ah, isn't there always a girl back home? The Army loses lots of good men to girls back home. I'll bet she's pretty."

Lester grinned and replied, "Not only is she pretty, sir, but she's also _hot_! I can't wait to meet her!"

"You can't wait to meet her?" Col. Striker asked in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, sir, I've only seen photos of her, so far," Lester admitted. Then he grinned wolfishly and said, "But she's Captain Mañoso's fiancée's best friend, and from what I've seen and heard, she's a _total_ babe!"

I barely suppressed a laughing snort of my own. We'd been catching glimpses of posters of Carlos' woman's ad campaign ever since we returned to the States. Every time Lester saw a copy of Tina's photo, he made kissing sounds at it and called her 'Mrs. Santos.' It was downright pathetic.

Col. Striker stared at Lester and asked, "Sergeant Santos, just when do you expect to meet this 'total babe' of a woman? Does she even know you exist?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" Lester exclaimed. "She knows she's mine and I'm hers, but she understands my mission comes first. As soon as we catch the mole and our whole team is back together, I'm gonna use up a bunch of my leave days to go home and see her."

"You're from New Jersey, aren't you, Santos?" Col. Striker asked.

"Yes, sir!" he answered enthusiastically. "Newark, to be precise."

The colonel looked thoughtful for a moment and rubbed his hand over his jaw and the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. Then he straightened his stance and rolled his neck. I cringed as I heard his bones and cartilage crackling in protest. He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, "Youth is wasted on the young. This life of ours catches up to you before you know it. I just got a 'wild hair' and I'm gonna tug on it to see what happens. How would you two like to travel up to Fort Monmouth today? I've got a courier 'copter headed up there after daybreak. There's two extra seats. It won't take long, but I'm sure there'll be an hour or so of 'free time' on the ground while the helicopter refuels for the return trip."

"What about our search for the mole, sir?" I asked.

He winked and answered, "I think I can handle things in this office for that amount of time without you men hanging around." Then he looked directly into Lester's eyes and said, "An enterprising man can make a lot of things happen in a short amount of time, if you catch my drift."

Lester's jaw had dropped open, so I replied for both of us, "What time do we leave, sir?"

Col. Striker grinned and said, "The chopper's leaving at zero-seven hundred hours. I know that's right after the end of your shift, so you'll have to hustle. I'm sorry, but you'll have to maintain your disguises, too. We can't afford for someone to recognize you, so you'll just have to be creative when it comes to wooing your girl back home. And I'll want a _full_ report when you get back."

"Damn, sir!" Lester exclaimed and then quickly corrected himself, "I mean, uh, thank you, sir. This is gonna be great!"

Col Striker laughed and said, "I had a girl back home once and she was a, what did you say? Oh yeah, a 'total babe,' too."

"What happened, sir?" Lester asked, totally hyped up at the possibility of meeting Miss Tina Minardo much earlier than expected.

"I married her," the colonel replied with a twinkle in his eye. "It'll be thirty-two years this June. We've got two sons and a daughter – all grown now – and five grandkids. It's a good life, but it hasn't been easy. You have to make time for what's truly important. You've done good work here, so I'm going to cut you free a few hours early so you'll have time to grab a shower and change into fresh clothes. I'll have my secretary type up your travel orders ASAP while you shut down your computers and secure this room. I think the hunt for the mole will keep for the next twelve or so hours." He was still smiling, but his eyes became much more sober when he said, "Sergeant James, I want you to make sure Sergeant Santos gets to New Jersey and back in one piece. Sergeant Santos, don't screw this up! Life's too short. Go meet your 'total babe' and get things started."

"Yes, sir," Lester said, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, sir."

Yeah, I definitely planned to harass him about that for a long time.

"Enjoy your youth," Col. Striker said and he started to leave the office.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "We certainly plan to do just that."

Lester and I stood at attention and saluted the colonel as he closed the door behind him. Then we turned to each other, grinned and slapped a stinging high-five. Our luck was definitely looking up. We were going to Jersey!

_Stephanie's POV_

"Omigod! Omigod! Omigod!" Tina kept saying as we drove down the Garden State Parkway toward Fort Monmouth, an Army base close to the Jersey Shore. We were twenty minutes into the hour-long drive and I was afraid she was going to start hyperventilating at any moment so I tried to calm her down with soothing words.

"C'mon, Tina," I said, "I know everything's going to work out fine. It's just coffee. We're just meeting them for coffee, remember? You look great, very professional. It'll be awesome."

Tina waved her hand dismissively and replied, "This isn't just any old Starbucks coffee klatch, Stevie! This is my _future husband_ we're meeting here! And who gives a damn about looking professional? I wanna look _hot_! It's just not fair; _you_ got to look hot when you met _your_ future husband for the first time. _You_ got to spend practically all weekend between the sheets with _your_ future husband. What do _I_ get? A lousy, freaking _coffee_ _break_!" Her voice was becoming more hysterical with every word.

I just shook my head. Poor Tina! She'd been a nervous wreck ever since I'd called her into my office to tell her about Tank's early morning phone call. I could hardly believe it myself. I had just settled in to read the reports from London when I received the surprising news that Tank and Lester would be flying to Fort Monmouth on some sort of official business. They wanted us to meet them at a Starbucks shop within walking distance of the Army base, where they'd be able to spend only an hour or so with us. Obviously, we couldn't pass up such an opportunity.

"Remember, Tina, Lester has seen your _Babe!_ photos," I reminded her.

"Yeah? So what?" she replied sullenly. "Today, of all days, I've got my period _and_ I'm wearing this totally lame sweater dress that shows absolutely _no_ cleavage whatsoever."

I sighed and said, "So, when Lester sees you today in that totally _awesome_ sweater dress – which, by the way, you _know_ shows off all your curves to great advantage – he'll be thinking about what you've got on _underneath_ said sweater dress."

Honestly, Tina did look hot in her soft gray knit dress and black high-heeled boots, whether she admitted it or not. The dress had a cowl neckline, but it hugged every single curve she possessed. She was wearing large silver hoop earrings and a long silver chain necklace that nestled perfectly between her breasts. I knew when Tina took off her trench coat, Lester Santos wasn't going to be able to tear his eyes away from her. Next to Tina, I was going to look positively boring in my navy blue suit. Oh, well, Carlos wouldn't be there so it didn't really matter how I looked.

For the next several miles, Tina chewed on her bottom lip and contemplated my words of encouragement. Slowly, but surely, she began to calm down. By the time I took the correct exit off the Parkway, the color had returned to Tina's cheeks and a smile began to tug at the corner of her mouth. I could tell she was thinking of something wicked and I began to smile, too.

"Okay, cough it up, Minardo," I demanded. "I want to know what's going on inside that devious little brain of yours."

"Me? Devious?" she smirked. "Now, whatever gave you that idea?"

"Hah!" I laughed. "I've only known you since forever and whenever you get that particular look on your face, I know your mind's been swimming around in the gutter. Now, spill!"

Tina giggled and said, "Okay, okay. You're right. This dress does hug my curves in all the right places."

"_And_…?" I prompted.

"_And_ I started thinking about Lester having naughty daydreams about my undies," she continued. "I imagined him imagining which _Babe!_ lingerie I might be wearing underneath this dress. Then I imagined him imagining me taking it all off for him and, well… you know."

I laughed again and said, "Oh, yeah! I know exactly how vivid your imagination is. You're steaming up the windows all by yourself."

She swatted playfully at my arm and we both stayed in a good mood until I parked my Porsche in the Starbucks parking lot off Broad Street in the little town of Shrewsbury, just outside the gates of Fort Monmouth. We tried to appear casual as we strolled into the coffee shop, but nothing could have prepared us for the sight before our eyes. As soon as we entered the place, two men unfolded themselves from the comfortable chairs and smiled at us.

Although he had warned me that he and Lester would not look like their normal selves, I recognized Tank immediately. The man's physique certainly lived up to his nickname. He was as tall as a professional basketball player and as buff as a professional body builder. I'd never seen anyone like him – ever. And Lester was, well, let's just say Lester looked _interesting_.

"Tina? Stephanie?" the blond man asked as we approached them.

"It's great to finally meet you, Les-" Tina began to say, but he shook his head to cut off the rest of her words. I had told Tina that Tank had asked us not to use their names when we talked to them. Apparently, their safe existence was still a bit of a secret.

"It's great to see both of you," I said smoothly and held out my hand to shake theirs. "Let's get some coffee and then we can chat."

I had to poke Tina's back to make her move her feet. She couldn't take her eyes off of Lester and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Silly blond hair or not, my friend was obviously dumbstruck with infatuation for the sexy Latino man who returned her long gazes. Tank and I traded knowing looks as we ordered our friends' preferred coffee drinks, as well as our own, and then settled in to the four large comfortable chairs in the corner of the shop. We all sipped our coffees and smiled weirdly at each other.

Finally, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, I pulled my car keys out of my purse and handed them to Tina.

"Why don't you show your new friend all the wonderful features of my car?" I told Tina. "We'll come outside in, say… thirty minutes. How about that?" I didn't have to repeat myself as Lester quickly escorted Tina out of the coffee shop.

"That was smooth," Tank said as he raised his cup to mine in a triumphant toast.

I shrugged. "I was afraid the building would go up in flames if we'd had to endure another few minutes of their smoldering glances at each other."

Tank chuckled and nodded his head. "That Carlos sure is a lucky man. And now my friend here is, too. I sure hope you have someone special tucked away somewhere for me."

"I'm working on it," I admitted, as Keira's face flashed through my mind. I pulled out last month's copy of 'O' magazine and turned to the page that featured Keira's '_Are you a Babe?_' ad and handed it to Tank. "Does she meet your requirements?" I asked, watching Tank's normally blank face light up with what could only be described as pure pleasure. He stared at Keira's picture for so long I finally asked, "Well?"

Without looking up, he replied with a grunt I took as favorable.

"Perhaps she'll be ready to meet you when you can stay for a while." Tank looked up at that remark with such a hopeful look in his eye, I had to chuckle. "Any idea how soon that might be?" I asked.

Now Tank shook his head, but he said, "Keep the faith. We're making progress."

I chewed on my lower lip and then asked, "How is…can you tell me about… Carlos?"

"So far, so good," he replied.

I had so many questions. "How can you be here meeting with us and Carlos can't?" As much as I tried to keep my voice light, I know I sounded a little whiny.

Tank's eyes told me he wanted to say something, but his barely perceptible head shake told me I wasn't going to get an answer. He broke eye contact and reached inside his jacket. He pulled out a plain white envelope with my name on it. I immediately recognized the distinctive handwriting and tears filled my eyes as Tank handed the letter to me.

"Should I open this now?" I asked, searching Tank's brown eyes for any hint about what might be in the letter.

He thought about it for a moment and then slowly shook his head again. "No. I don't think so. Not here, anyway."

A slight fear gripped me as I asked, "Why not?"

"Carlos wrote it when we were still in North Carolina," he replied uncomfortably. "I, um, think it might cause some, ah, smoldering on your part."

"Oh," I said and I knew my face had turned bright red.

We sat in silence for a while, until Tank asked me how the launch of the _Babe!_ lingerie line was going.

I told Tank about my successful trip to London. I explained the next phase of our _Babe Nation_ ad campaign and the new _Sleep like a Babe_ marketing collaboration and expressed my joy over the astounding number of orders we already had for Valentine's Day.

Oh, how I wished Carlos could be home for Rosa and Dawson's wedding, but I couldn't even tell Tank about it or Carlos would know I'd met his Abuela Rosa and that might cause him to worry too much. I couldn't – wouldn't – do anything that might distract him from his mission. A deep sadness and longing brought tears to my eyes and Tank began to look distinctly uncomfortable.

He stood up abruptly and declared, "It's time for me and my partner to head back to our pick-up point."

I nodded and stood next to him. Clasping his huge hand in mine, I said, "Thank you so much for meeting us today. I realize it couldn't have been an easy thing to do. And thank you for my letter. You're a great friend and I won't forget this."

He cleared his throat and said, "This never happened, so it's no problem. If you can set me up with this fine _Babe_ beauty…" He lifted the magazine and stared again at Keira's picture, "…we'll call it even." He looked down at me, his goofy smile turning into a slight frown, "Could I… can I… uh… keep this?" I nodded and then he stammered, "Um, ahhh, what's her name?"

"Keira," I told him, "Keira Sanderson." A huge smile split his face as he murmured her name. After he tucked the magazine into his jacket, we walked out to the parking lot.

Extracting Tina and Lester from the car was just as embarrassing as I thought it would be. Given the limited space inside my Porsche, as well as Tina's current physical status, I knew they wouldn't be able to do what they really wanted to do. Of course, now Tina was probably glad she had worn her cowl-necked dress today. When the smiling couple emerged from the car, it was obvious they'd definitely figured out how to make each other quite happy in spite of their limitations. Tank quickly averted his eyes while Tina used Lester's body to shield her as she straightened her dress. Upon closer inspection, I could see a few spectacular hickeys peeking above her neckline. No doubt, Lester had some to match hers. I think that someday, perhaps far in the future, this little episode will become one hell of a story to tell their grandkids!

Tina and I waved to Tank and Lester as they climbed into the taxi that would take them back to the Army base. Tina even blew Lester a kiss, which he pantomimed catching and smearing all over his face. I laughed, but Tank didn't appear to be amused by his friend's antics. We watched until the taxi disappeared around a corner and then Tina collapsed into my arms.

"Oh, Stevie, I'm so in love!" she moaned. "And I'm _definitely_ gonna marry that man!"

"Gee, that's a surprise," I said dryly. "You wait here in the car while I get us some more coffee to go. Next time, missy, you and Lester better plan on getting a room!"

"Oh, God," Tina moaned again. "Next time, I won't be on my period. Damn! I can hardly wait for next time. Lester promised this time was just a _tiny_ taste of what next time will be."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "Tiny? Did I just hear you say Lester was tiny?"

"No, no!" she shook her head impatiently, "It was a tiny _taste_. Trust me, there's nothing tiny about my man!"

"Well, by the size of those hickeys on your neck, it looks to me like you two already did a lot of tasting," I said. I had a big smirk on my face when I went back inside the Starbucks to get our coffees.

It was official; my best friend was head-over-heels in love with Lester Santos. All the way home, Tina recounted every kiss, every caress, every nibble and every sweet word Lester showered upon her. I even started to get a little turned-on by her descriptions. Now I knew what she'd been going through whenever I gave her the details of Carlos' lovemaking. I just wanted to go home so I could read my letter and fantasize about the next time Carlos and I would sit in my car. Trust me, we'd do a _lot_ of tasting – and I don't just mean the kind that produces hickeys!

Knowing that both Tina and I would be worthless at the office, I called in to let Dawson know we'd be out the rest of the day. After I dropped Tina off at her place, I went directly home as fast as I could. Of course, as soon as I opened the door, Blackie expressed his need for some loving, too. I was nearly crawling out of my skin with anticipation when we got back from taking a quick walk around the neighborhood. As soon as I'd given Blackie his food and water, I kicked off my shoes, curled up on the sofa and read Carlos' letter.

The yellow legal pad paper wasn't as distinctive as the papers he'd used for his other letters, but his familiar handwriting was just as precious to me.

_Dearest Babe-_

_I love you; I miss you so much! I just wanted you to know I'm coming back to you as soon as humanly possible. We've been training like devil dogs down here and most of the time I'm so tired I can't even think straight. But the thought that keeps me going is the one of you there waiting for me to return to you. And now that I've seen the evidence and I know you're already spreading your wings and making a name for yourself, I can and will rest easier._

_You can't possibly know how proud of you I was when my fellow soldiers told me about your escapades on You-Tube and on the news stations. And then, when I had the opportunity to see the video clips with my own eyes, I was speechless. There you were, my awesome, ass-kicking Wonder Woman, beating up the bad guys and strutting your stuff for the whole world to see. Babe, you just don't know what you do to me – I was so hard I almost disgraced myself in front of my men. A lot of the guys expressed some pretty raunchy ideas of what they'd do with you if you were their woman, but I quickly informed them you weren't available. Yeah, I was beyond proud to be able to claim you as mine. I love you so much!_

_You have given me hope, Babe; a luxury I've always refused to indulge in. Now, it's a necessity. You truly are the light of my life and I need you like the plants need the sun. Before I met you, I didn't mind doing what I needed to do for the sake of the mission and I didn't make too many plans for the future. I've always been ready, willing and able to die for my country, but now I'm willing to live for so much more. You are IT for me. You are the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, the one – the only one – I want to have children with, and you are the one I want to grow old with. Know that I am counting down the days, hours and minutes until I can hold you in my arms again and make sweet hot love to you for as long as you desire._

_I've never been much of a praying man, but I'm saying my prayers to Saint Michael every night for this God-forsaken mission to go better than expected, so I can come home and make you the happiest woman in the world. I love you, Babe! When I close my eyes, I can see your bright blue eyes smiling back at me and I promise to move heaven and earth to be able to return to you. Don't ever lose hope, no matter what you might hear. Remember, as long as I have breath in my body, I will be with you._

_Again, I love you always and forever,_

_Your Superman,_

_Carlos_

Tears were running down my face as I re-read the letter several times. It was dark when I finally folded the letter and put it back into its envelope. My legs were stiff as I walked up to my room, undressed and took a shower. Afterward, I slid into my bed, prayed for Carlos' safe return and fell into a deep sleep with his letter tucked under my pillow.

**TBC**


	23. Chapter 23 Chapter 107

**CHAPTER 107**

_Frank's POV_

"I'm sorry. I did the best I could," Ellen said and then paused for a moment, the phone held tightly to her ear.

She continued speaking into the receiver, "He does indeed sound miserable. Can't you just insist he return home?" She listened to the person on the other end of the phone before speaking again.

"But that will all blow over, as soon as another scandal… I mean… well, you know the 'Burg… another bit of news will hit and all that nonsense about Joseph will be forgotten. I still don't see why he moved all the way to Montana just because of a little embarrassment."

Damn! Ellen had to be talking to Angela Morelli… again. I laid the pruning shears on top of the shrubs and looked in the back window. I had a side view of Ellen sitting in her chair in the living room.

"All right, maybe the incident was a little more than just embarrassing, but lots of people have… uh… unattractive medical problems. Maybe since Joseph and my daughter… _my other daughter_ … have become _reacquainted _and have the same … uh, _condition_, maybe we could pursue _that_ relationship?" Ellen winced and held the phone away from her ear.

"Calm down, Angela. No need to place blame. I just thought…" My wife rubbed her forehead with her left hand. The conversation obviously wasn't going well.

"You're right, of course. Valerie is still married and Joseph is an active, dynamic man. He needs someone who…" My wife was nodding and listening, but she did not look happy. Angela was winning, as usual. My wife had that harried whining sound in her voice.

"I can try, but Stephanie never listens to me. In fact, she usually does the exact opposite of what I ask her to do." She gave a slight snort. "Maybe I should have _forbidden _her from seeing Joseph. Knowing my contrary daughter, she probably would have run straight into his arms then."

A wave of disgust shot through me. I'm sure Ellen thought I couldn't hear her conversation, but that wouldn't have stopped her. For years, she'd ignored my protests at how she handled our daughters.

Ever since Stephanie's junior year in high school, Ellen had demanded I no longer interfere with her raising our youngest daughter. Ellen blamed me for… for what happened between Stephanie and that teenaged Casanova. She said I'd filled her head with all sorts of fanciful unrealistic dreams. Impractical ideas like _'she could be and do anything she wanted.'_

Ellen was of the mind that a woman, any woman, was happiest being a stay-at-home wife and mother and keeping a clean home for her family. If you stuck to that mindset, life was simple for a 'Burg woman. Ellen seemed happy with her life and I had to admit, I enjoyed being taken care of. But Stephanie would never be satisfied with that lifestyle. I hoped her fiancé didn't have those expectations.

I realized how little I knew about my own daughter and I regretted stepping back from having an active role in both my children's lives. Having Val and my granddaughters back home, I realized just how much of their lives I'd missed. And now, Angie and Mary Alice needed a father figure. Seeing how messed up Ellen was with Steph and Val, and now with the girls, was making me rethink my fatherly role, or my lack of one. Did I really want to 'sleep' through the rest of my life and that of my children?

I was not pleased with my wife right now. I'd had that long talk with her at Thanksgiving about her matchmaking attempts. Obviously, she was still plotting to get that bastard Morelli back into Stephanie's life. And this was after all he'd done to both our daughters. I was beginning to think my wife no longer was in full possession of all her mental faculties… either that, or my once loving, caring wife had been possessed by an evil witch. With Ellen so willing to do whatever Angie Morelli told her to do, maybe there was something to all the odd claims about Bella Morelli?

But I knew something my wife didn't. I knew why that SOB Morelli had really left Jersey. And it brought a smile to my face.

My daughter had chosen a fine upstanding young man for her fiancé. And he, in turn, had some good friends. Diego Rios, for one. I'd met Diego that December day, eight weeks ago, when I went to Steph's townhouse to pick up Blackie for his vet appointment. At first, when I found Diego in my daughter's trashed townhouse, I thought he was a burglar and faced off with him, ready to do battle. But he quickly told me who he was and what he was doing in my daughter's place. Explaining why the house was such a mess was a little harder. Neither of us could believe a grown man could be so petty or vindictive. Diego explained that his three friends were currently 'escorting' Morelli out of the state. Any enemy of Joe Morelli's was a friend of mine.

I was pleased to know that my daughter's chosen husband could engender such loyal friends that they would go to such extremes to protect his fiancée. I couldn't wait to meet my future son-in-law and shake his hand.

Stephanie had evaded many of the questions I'd asked about her soldier fiancé's current tour of duty. I got the feeling she knew more than she was saying, but was hiding something about him. I called an old Army buddy of mine who'd stayed in Special Forces and was now working in DC. All he could find out was that Carlos Mañoso had been a Ranger in the Army and was still a captain in military service, though currently listed as MIA. Based on what he _didn't_ find out about him, he'd come to the same conclusion I had. This Carlos Mañoso was Special Forces, possibly even Delta Force. It brought back a flood of memories, not all of them good ones.

I'd served in Vietnam and had been given some 'special' assignments that had pushed my training, and indeed my sanity, to its limits. The so called 'conflict' had taken our country by surprise and, as on-the-ground soldiers, it was difficult to know who our enemy was at times. Our soldiers couldn't fight the same way our predecessors had in WWII. Different tactics had to be developed and sometimes regular soldiers had to be deployed in dangerous missions without adequate training or equipment. I did as I was ordered and I was successful in my missions, but it took its toll on me. I was definitely glad when my tour of duty was over. As they say "War is hell."

When I got out of the service, all I wanted was peace and quiet. I'd grown up in Chambersburg and coming back to it was familiar and comforting. The job at the Post Office fit my need for no stress, no excitement. I married Ellen and we had a pretty carefree life until our two daughters came along. Even then, my life was comfortable and, in time, I just settled in and became complacent… too complacent.

Ellen was talking to Angela again and it didn't sound good, especially for our daughter, Stephanie.

"Now, Angela, there's no need to threaten me with Mama Bella. I'll find some way to convince Stephanie to reach out to Joseph. She's always been attracted to him and I think Joseph can help settle her down and forget all these crazy dreams that are only going to bring her heartache."

_Shit!_ It was time to put a permanent stop to all this nonsense. We'd already argued about it many times in the past few months. I guess I hadn't gotten through to Ellen. Her 'motherly' advice had made both my girls miserable and nearly ruined their lives. And now she was plotting to break up my daughter's engagement so she could chain Steph to the same philandering, arrogant asshole who'd seduced her as a teenager. _Over my dead body!_

I stormed into the house and confronted my wife. "We need to talk."

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed me, continuing her conversation with Angela Morelli.

I yelled at my wife – not something I did very often. "GET OFF THE DAMNED PHONE! NOW!"

Yelling finally got to her. "I've got to go, Angela. Frank's upset about something. I'll call you back." She hung up the phone.

I stood over my wife and told her, "No, you won't. There ain't gonna be any need for you to talk to Angie Morelli anymore. I warned you before, Ellen, stop interferin' in our daughter's life. This ain't a warning – _this here's an order_! Stop this ridiculous matchmaking scheme between our daughter and that jackass Morelli. He's already done more than enough damage to both our daughters. _No more!_"

"Frank, you don't know anything about this. I know what's best for our girls. Go back to your yard work… or go to the Lodge and do whatever it is you do there." She got up and walked into the kitchen.

"Don't you walk away from me, Ellen. We ain't done talkin'. It's high time we had this out, once and for all." I followed her into the kitchen. "Our girls are grown. They don't need your interference in their lives."

Ellen opened the fridge and got out the makings for lunch. I got a glimpse into the way she justified her actions when she said, "A mother's help isn't interference. It's love. I'm just trying to prevent heartache down the road."

"You're the one who's causin' the heartache, Ellen. I don't want that _son of a bitch_ – and, yeah, I'm callin' Angie Morelli_ a bitch_ – anywhere near either of my girls. Joe Morelli's nothin' but trouble, always has been." I ran my hand through my hair – my rapidly thinning, graying hair. What could I say that would get through to her?

Waiting until she looked at me, I continued, "Didja know Morelli had been stalkin' and harassin' Stephanie? Didja know he broke into Stephanie's place and trashed it? Didja know he tampered with her car? He doesn't want to _marry her_, he wants to _hurt her_."

Ellen frowned and then shook her head. "That's nonsense. Joe is a good Burg boy. He used to be a little wild, but he's settled down and has a good job now. He just needs to come home. I still don't know why he suddenly decided to go to Montana, of all places. He can offer Stephanie a real future with a house here in the neighborhood so we can be close to our grandchildren."

"_What?_ _Are you kiddin' me?_ You really want Stephanie to have children with a man who chases anything in a skirt. Both our daughters already had husbands who couldn't keep it in their pants. Look at the miserable situation Valerie's in. Her so-called _good catch_ of a husband cheated repeatedly on her, gave her an incurable venereal disease, and ran off with the babysitter, leavin' her and our granddaughters with no money, no security – _no nothin'_. I swear, Ellen, Morelli's no different."

"Marriage has its ups and downs…" she began.

"_Ups and downs_?" I cried. "Steph's marriage was a royal fuck-up and now, we're findin' out so was Val's. And in both cases, _you_ kept tryin' to shove our girls back in their disastrous marriages. Let me rephrase that, you're still tryin' to convince Valerie to get back with that asshole. Steve _deserted_ Val _and_ his own flesh and blood. He doesn't deserve his family. Face it, Ellen, she's gettin' a divorce and good riddance, I say."

Ellen's face was actually getting red and when she fixed her eyes on mine, I felt like ducking so the sparks wouldn't hit me. Her voice had an unnatural high pitch to it as she told me off, "Franco Alberto Plum, marriage is a sacred institution and both our girls were married in the Church. They took vows to stand by their husbands forever and then didn't honor those vows."

_Jeez Louise!_ What was it gonna take to get her to see reality? "Standin' by your vows is all well and good if your partner is a decent human being, but Dickie and Steve are scum, in my book. Don't blame Valerie or Stephanie for this mess. It's the men who didn't respect and honor their vows or their wives. And, if you remember, Steve left Valerie, she didn't leave him."

Ellen heaved a big sigh. "Young people today give up at the first sign of trouble and that makes a mockery out of marriage. Our girls just didn't try hard enough to please their husbands. I'm trying to give them enough backbone to honor their commitments."

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't think of anything to say to such an asinine argument. Ellen had said some pretty strange things lately, but I was fast reaching my limit, especially now that her actions were directly impacting not only our daughters, but also our young granddaughters.

"_Backbone?_ I'd say both our daughters are showin' true strength right now. Stephanie did the right thing by divorcin' that playboy husband of hers, no matter how good a catch you thought Dickie Orr was. And Valerie is workin' hard to make a new life for herself and her girls." Ellen pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips, preparing to argue with me.

I wasn't gonna back down this time. The stakes were too high. "I'm warnin' you, Ellen, do not try to talk Valerie out of divorcin' Steve. I'll fight you on this. Both our girls deserve better and if you can't see it, and support them, then I'll make sure you stay out of their lives."

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. "You can't keep me from my own daughters. Our bond is too strong. And besides, they need me."

"_What they need_ is a lovin', carin' and supportive mother, not some nag who tries to undermine their confidence and decision every step of the way. If you can't be happy for our daughters and support them, then just stay out of their lives, Ellen."

"A nag? How dare you speak to me like that? Everything I do for our girls is to ensure their happiness, since they seem so determined on ruining their lives. I'm just trying to set them on the right path. They need someone with a firm hand who can guide them, make them see the error of their ways."

"First of all, who's to say they're makin' a mistake? And second, you think _you_ have all the answers for them?" I couldn't help but laugh, not that it was funny. In fact, it was scary that my wife actually believed what she was saying.

"Of course, I do! I'm their mother. It's my job. It isn't always pretty, but children need guidance and they need to be told when they're doing something wrong."

"Our daughters aren't children anymore. They're adults, perfectly capable of makin' their own decisions and livin' with the consequences."

She waved her hand at me, dismissing my words. Nothing I said seemed to get through to her, but I had to try. I stood directly in front of her and grasped her upper arms.

"Ellen, I'm gonna say this once and I expect you to listen and then do exactly as I tell you to do. You're gonna _stop_ all your attempts to get Valerie back with that asshole of a cheatin' husband, and _stop_ tryin' to interfere in any part of Stephanie's life. And that includes tryin' to fix her up with that sick bastard Morelli."

Ellen narrowed her eyes at me as I issued my ultimatum. "Frank, you have no idea all that I do for our daughters. They need me, especially now. I'm not about to stop being their mother just because you have a bug up your..." She shook her head and shrugged out of my grip.

"Ellen, I'm warnin' you, if you continue to interfere in our daughters' lives, I won't stand by and watch. I can't. You're hurtin' them and now you are hurtin' our granddaughters. It's too much."

"Then don't watch. I have to do what I know is best for my girls."

I was talked out and getting nowhere. I took one last look at my wife and saw the determined set to her jaw. Shaking my head, I turned and went up the stairs. It didn't take long to pack what I'd need. As I passed through the kitchen, I spoke my last words to her, "Goodbye, Ellen."

. . .

After throwing my duffel in the back seat of the cab, I backed down the driveway and left my house. I was surprised at the emotion it stirred up in me.

Ellen and I had bought this house shortly after we got married. We shared a lot of good memories in that house, and some not so good. _It was home, my home_. But right now, I just couldn't be in the same house with Ellen. I found I didn't know, or even like, the person my wife had become.

I needed to do something that would wake her up, make her come to her senses. With Edna moved out, and Val and the girls in their own apartment, and now with me gone, she'd be all alone. Ellen had never been alone before. Would it be enough?

. . .

I'd driven the streets of Trenton for nearly 40 years, but today they seemed unfamiliar. I had nowhere to go. I couldn't go to any of my relatives, and not have to explain the situation between Ellen and me. And what would I say to anyone… My wife's been possessed by a controlling shrew?

Ellen had always been worried about what others thought of her, and her family, but now it seemed to consume her. And she had this unreasoning determination to see both her daughters married, no matter what our girls wanted or needed. I know when she lost the love of her life, Tamás, she feared she'd never get married, which for a traditional Hungarian girl from the Burg would have made her an outcast. Even marrying me, a full-blooded Italian, created some distance between her and the tight-knit Hungarian community she'd been a part of all her life. Maybe she was projecting her old fear on our daughters. But still, it didn't account for her obsession with Stephanie marrying Joe Morelli, especially when Steph was already engaged.

She seemed obsessed with having Val and Steph live the life she did – a Burg wife who stayed at home raising children and keeping her husband well-fed and taken care of. Ellen had done all those things for me and our children, and it had been a decent life. But that life wasn't the kind my daughters, at least Stephanie, wanted.

Valerie had always been very much like her mother, concerned with others' opinions and striving to maintain a serene, if false, front. Stephanie was more like her grandmother, pushing the boundaries and impatient to see what lay around the next bend. Steph still had that free spirit within her, but she'd found a way to live in our stifling, structured world and still follow her dreams. I was so proud of her.

I couldn't let Ellen drag Steph back to the mundane nor could I let her browbeat Val into returning to an unhealthy marriage. Since I couldn't seem to convince or even force Ellen to stay out of their lives, I'd make it my priority to stay involved in my daughters' daily lives and serve as their front line defense in case Ellen starting making any headway with them.

My first stop was at Valerie's new apartment. It was Wednesday, so I knew she'd be working at home today for Steph's company, processing catalog orders, which she really seemed to enjoy. And Angie and Mary Alice would still be at school.

"Hi, Daddy! What brings you by today?" Valerie asked as she greeted me at the door.

"Just thought I'd check on my best girl and bring her some of her favorite Starbuck's." I gave her a peck on her cheek as she stepped aside to let me in.

"Now, now, Mom's your _best_ girl, I'm your second best. But I'll gladly accept your bribe of a vanilla Frappucchino not to tell on you."

I handed her the coffee and took a sip of mine. "Your mother is the reason I stopped by. I need to tell you something and I don't want you to get upset."

"That sounds ominous!" We settled in at the kitchen table and Val cut me a piece of coffeecake.

"Your mother's been gettin' increasingly unreasonable, especially when it comes to you and Stephanie."

"Oh Dad, you know Mom. She just wants what's best for us."

"Is it best for you to stay married to that scumbag Steve?"

"Well, no. But Mom…"

"Sweetie, your mother won't rest until you're back with that miserable excuse of a man. And she's still tryin' to get Stephanie hooked up with that bastard Morelli, even after what he did to you."

Val dropped her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I know you must be so disappointed in me."

I sighed. I hadn't meant to go there. Val still blamed herself. She'd never had very good sense when it came to alcohol, and men. The combination always got her in trouble. But Morelli had definitely taken advantage of her.

"It ain't you I'm disappointed in, honey. Right now, I'm disappointed in your mother. Joe Morelli ain't good enough to breathe the same air as my two girls, yet she's still tryin' to fix your sister up with him."

"That's old news. Stephanie's engaged. I know no one has met her fiancé yet, but she positively _glows_ when she talks about him. I've seen pictures of him. He's real dreamy. No matter what Mom says to her, I can't see Steph giving Joe the time of day."

"I agree, but Joe can cause other problems for her. He already has. If he comes back to town, it'll only be to give her more grief. And I have it on good authority that he doesn't let legalities stand in his way, even though he's a cop. He can be dangerous, so please, steer clear of him."

"Oh my! I still can't believe I ever trusted him. I mean, he was always one of the bad boys, even when we were back in school together. If I hadn't been drinking, I'm sure I would've remembered that and run the other way. I'll never touch another drop of liquor again. I swear, Daddy!"

"That's my girl." I put my hand on top of hers and gave it a little squeeze. "The main thing I wanted to tell you, the reason I stopped by… is… I moved out. I left your mother."

Valerie sat across from me with a stunned look on her face for several moments. When she spoke, her voice was squeaky and loud. "_What?_ Daddy, _no!_ Why? Did something happen? I can't believe this."

"It's true. I just couldn't stand by any longer and ignore your mother's efforts to undermine you while you're getting back on your feet. And Stephanie, she's doin' so well with her new career, but she needs our support to stay strong until her soldier gets back. What neither of you need is your mother makin' you doubt your decisions or puttin' roadblocks in your way."

Val was so upset she started stuttering, "But… but to move out? Does this mean… are you getting a…?"

The fearful look on my oldest daughter's face made me doubt my decision for a moment.

"I don't have any answers about the future, Val. I just know I can't stay in the same house with your mother while she continues to plot against the two of you. We've been arguin' for months and I've warned her to stop many times. Today, I gave her an ultimatum and she just dismissed me and my opinions. I'm hopin' by me movin' out, she'll see how serious I am and come to her senses sooner rather than later."

"This sucks… pardon my French, Daddy. It's hard enough going through my own divorce, but to have my parents separate is the absolute pits. I never expected this." Valerie got up and started wiping the crumbs off the table. Ellen did the same thing when she was upset.

"Neither did I, honey. But your mother really needs a severe jolt to make her see that her actions are hurtin' both you and Stephanie. Please, don't let your mom make you second guess any of your decisions, especially about the divorce. I want to be available to help you, and Angie and Mary Alice. If you need someone to look after the girls, please call me. If you need _anything_, I'll be here. OK?"

"Yes, Daddy! Thank you!" Val cried as she gave me a tight hug.

I leaned back just enough so I could look my daughter in the eye. "And Valerie, I don't want you to feel like you have to take sides. She's your mother, and I know you love her, but right now, she's not thinkin' straight. I just caution you about taking advice from her."

"She _has_ been getting a little _forceful_ lately." Valerie took a step back and turned away.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… she told me I was making a serious mistake and I'd regret divorcing Steve, and that no one else would ever want me because I was… 'damaged goods'."

_Damn, Ellen!_ Trying to make Val feel bad about herself, as if she needed any help in that department.

Val pivoted and shot me a worried glance. "She even hinted that maybe she should keep the girls with her until I come to my senses and give my daughters back their father. As if I ever had any control over Steve. _He left us! _I don't even know how to reach him."

And now Ellen was threatening to keep her kids just to get her own way! "Don't worry about gettin' hold of your soon-to-be ex-husband. Your divorce lawyer will handle that. You're doin' what's best for your daughters. They don't need that selfish, cheatin'… jerk in their lives. As for your mother's remarks, they were totally inappropriate. You're a beautiful woman, Valerie, and any man would be lucky to have you. And that isn't just your old dad sayin' that." I kissed her forehead and gave her another hug.

"Are you going to be alright… dealin' with your mother?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yes. I'd already decided not to let the girls go over to the house unless I was with them. I won't have her confusing them with that kind of talk. Mom doesn't seem to realize the trouble Steve's in. My lawyer said she's filing a charge of tax evasion and fraud against him. I won't keep my girls from seeing their father if they want to, but they'll have to visit him in prison because that's where he's going if he ever comes back to the States."

Val was making me so proud of her, standing up to her mother and Steve. She was fighting for sole custody of her girls and she was doing whatever it took to provide a safe home for them. I was also proud of Stephanie, for helping her sister. If only Ellen would come to her senses.

_Stephanie's POV_

When I got home from work, Dad was waiting for me on the porch. I was surprised to see him since it was close to six o'clock, dinnertime in the Burg.

I parked my car in the garage and then came around to the front to greet him. "Hey, Dad, this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Bel Aire this cold January day?" We gave each other a hug and I unlocked my front door.

"There's something I wanted to talk with you about. Plus, I've missed you and…" he reached down and patted Blackie, who'd met us at the door, "…this little guy."

We all moved into the house and on to the kitchen. Dad had brought a bucket of fried chicken with all the fixings, so I grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and two plates from the cupboard. While I set the table, Dad took a bunch of meat off one of the chicken breasts and hand fed it to Blackie. My little boy was so spoiled.

We each got through our first piece of chicken and half a beer before either of us spoke. "OK, Dad. Why are you here instead of at home? Don't get me wrong, I love having some alone time with you, it just isn't like you to miss Mom's dinner."

Dad grimaced and sat back in his chair. "I'm going to be missin' a lot of your mother's cooking." He finished his beer before he dropped the bomb, "Steph, I've left your mother."

_OMIGOD!_ I dropped the drumstick I'd just taken out of the bucket. Slumping back in my seat, I fought to gain control of my lower jaw, which insisted on trying to touch my chest.

Did I hear him right? I never in a million years expected this! I knew _I _couldn't live with my mother, but I thought my father was immune to her whining and manipulations. Obviously, something had pushed him over the edge.

I took a deep breath before I said anything, and then... "I don't know what to say, Dad." Sensing my mood, Blackie put his front paws on my knee and nudged my hand. I absently petted him while I stared at Dad.

He looked from Blackie to me and gave me a wan smile. "It's not like you to have nothing to say, Pumpkin. You asked me once if I would ever leave your mother…"

I blurted out, "I think I asked you if you would ever… _divorce_ her."

"To be truthful, I haven't thought that far ahead. I just know I can't live under the same roof with her when she's plottin' and plannin' to ruin both my daughters' lives."

"She's been doing that for months. What finally got to you?"

"I realized nothin' I said made a difference. When I heard her on the phone today with Angela Morelli plottin' a way to get you and Joseph Morelli together…"

"WHAT?" I cried. Blackie ducked under the kitchen table at my outburst.

"Yeah, that was my response, too. Pumpkin, your mother has stepped way over the line. I thought if I gave her an ultimatum she would back off, but she just dismissed me. Movin' out was the only thing I knew to do to shake some sense into her. I'm hopin' if she's alone long enough, she'll come to her senses."

"Well, _I_ certainly won't be visiting her. And now, I'll be looking over my shoulder waiting for Joe Morelli to pounce on me."

"Don't worry about Morelli. He's being closely watched and he won't get near you."

"How do you know that, Dad?" Morelli had transferred to Montana. Why would anyone still be watching him?

He grinned, "I met one of your fiancé's Army buddies. Remember when you asked me to take Blackie to the vet while you were in London? That was the day that… I can't think of a nice thing to call him…_that asshole of a cop_ broke into your house and trashed it. When I came in to get Blackie, I found Diego Rios vacuuming your carpet. He and three of his friends had spotted Morelli breakin' into your townhouse and rushed over to stop him. They hauled Morelli out of here and sent him packin' to Montana. Seems they orchestrated the whole transfer bit. Diego stayed behind to clean up the mess Morelli'd made. He's a great guy, Steph, and incredibly loyal to your fiancé. He and his friends are keepin' an eye on Morelli and he promised to let me know if that jackass ever leaves Montana."

Great! Even my father knew more about the men Carlos had asked to watch over me than I did. I had to meet these guys. I wanted to thank them, but I also wanted to put an end to the secrecy. I felt bad about having to keep secrets from part of Carlos' family, but there was no need for Carlos' friends to keep secrets from me.

And I'd just learned, according to my father, that Morelli hadn't left Trenton voluntarily. I needed to know just how much of a threat he still was to me. Mateo would be hearing from me very soon.

"That's good to know, Dad, but I need you to promise me that you won't keep secrets from me about this. I'm a big girl now and can handle bad news. I don't want to be blindsided if Joe returns, whether it's because our respective mothers are trying to play insane matchmakers or because he still holds a grudge against me."

My father gazed at me for a few moments before responding, "You've grown up, haven't you, Pumpkin? Okay, no more secrets." He placed his big hand over mine and gave it a little squeeze.

I drew us back to the original topic. "So, you moved out of the house?"

That got a nod from my father, but nothing else.

"What happens now? Where are you going to live? How long will you stay away? Does anyone else know you've left?"

"Whoa… one question at a time. Only your sister knows I moved out. I stopped by her apartment earlier today and told her. I want to be there for her and for the girls. Val's going to need a lot of support to withstand your mother's relentless harpin' about the divorce. I love Val dearly, but she's not as strong as you and she lets her mother talk her into things." Dad gave my hand another squeeze.

"I want to be there for you, too. I just recently realized how absent I've been from both of your lives and that's gonna change. I promise I won't be an interferin' father; your mother has that base covered. But I want you to know I'm interested in what's going on in your life and that you can come to me for anything."

I almost teared up. That was the most Dad had said in a long time, especially about personal things. I wanted to hug him, but we weren't a very demonstrative family. As if sensing my thoughts, he stood up abruptly and gathered our empty beer bottles, putting them in the recycle bin. Then he grabbed another beer from the refrigerator.

I was glad he felt at home enough in my house to help himself. Before closing the fridge door he held up the bottle and looked at me questioningly. I shook my head. Popping the cap, he took a long swig and then leaned against the sink. Blackie came out from under the table and danced in front of my father, hoping for another piece of chicken. Dad smiled and reached down, scratching the wriggling puppy behind the ears, which pleased Blackie just as much as food.

"Pumpkin, I don't have all the answers. I don't know how long I'll stay away. That depends on what your mother does… or doesn't do. As for where I'll live, I thought I'd stay at the motel down by the train station. They have rooms with a kitchenette you can rent by the week."

"Why don't you stay here?" I blurted out. It made sense. I had plenty of room and Blackie would love to have company during the day. Dad didn't have a lot of money to be keeping up the house for Mom and paying rent at a motel.

Dad gave a start, but shook his head. "I don't want to intrude. I'll be fine at a motel."

"Please, Dad, stay with me… and Blackie. I have a whole bunch of extra rooms just going to waste. We both would love to have you. Truth is, I've been pretty lonely lately."

"Missin' your soldier man?"

Now it was my turn to only be able to nod. Dad set his beer down and came over to me. Taking my hand he lifted me out of the chair and folded me against his chest, his arms tightening around me. It felt so good, so safe, to be in my father's arms, I broke down and cried. I wasn't really sure what I was crying about, missing Carlos or my parents' separation, so I just let the sad feeling wash over me.

When we broke apart, Dad strode out of the kitchen and headed for the front door. "Where are you going? We haven't made a dent in this bucket of chicken," I called out after him.

Dad glanced back at me with a grin, "Just gettin' my duffel from the car."

Laughing, I raced upstairs, with Blackie following close on my heels, to put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room.

**TBC**


	24. Chapter 24 Chapter 108

**CHAPTER 108**

_Stephanie's POV_

Tina and I had just returned to our offices after our regular 'first Friday of the month' marketing meeting. Our marketing team had done a great job promoting the Valentine's Day campaign, _'Sleep like a Babe!'_. We still had over a week to go and sales, both here in the States and in Great Britain and Europe, were phenomenal. The best sellers so far were our ivory lace panty and bra sets paired with Harrods ivory 1200 thread count sheets and our pink satin baby doll PJs with Harrods new pink luxury sheets. I know I sure enjoyed sleeping on the fabulous sheets I'd purchased in London.

For next year's Valentine's Day, our marketing staff was looking to partner our lingerie with Godiva Chocolates. I couldn't wait to see what ideas they came up with for the upcoming Mother's Day promotion.

Just as I settled in at my desk and started to weed my way through my piled up inbox, Tina stuck her head in.

"Stevie, I forgot to tell you, your 2:30 appointment with The Bay representatives was cancelled. I guess the winter storms in Toronto kept the planes grounded. I rescheduled for next week. That was your only obligation this afternoon. And most of what's clogging up your inbox are the performance sheets from Internet sales. Amanda gave you the same information in the meeting today, so it's old news."

"Does that mean I have a free afternoon? Wow, I haven't been able to leave work early in weeks. I promised my father I'd cook him dinner tonight, so this will give me time to stop by the supermarket on the way home. He's been bugging me to make him some Cuban food after I bragged about my cooking lessons with Rosa."

"How's your dad doing?" Tina asked.

I waggled my hand a few times. "_Eh_, so-so. He's been spending mornings at his cabbie job and afternoons at Valerie's watching the girls so Val can concentrate on processing our catalog orders. I barely see him some days."

"And your mom?"

I blew out a noisy puff of air. "Each of us gets at least a half dozen phone calls a day. We all agreed to ignore them, even Grandma. I don't even bother to listen to them anymore, I just delete them. My mother is one unhappy woman. Dad's pension from the Post Office is still being deposited in their joint checking account, so she isn't hurting for money, but you'd think she was a pauper by the way she's moaning to anyone who'd listen. She's telling people that Dad abandoned her and her good-for-nothing daughters have turned their backs on her. Grandma Mazur tries to set the record straight, but for once, she's no match for her whining daughter."

"I'm sorry you're caught in the middle of your parents' fight. It can't be easy."

"I'm actually enjoying having my father live with me. The few times I've made it home in time for his 6 o'clock dinner he's been quite talkative, which is unusual for him. I never knew he had a _thing_ for Sophia Loren or that he was obsessed with the daily Jumble word puzzle." I laughed out loud remembering what we did last night. "We both love watching the Rangers games on TV while consuming obscene quantities of junk food. My lousy eating habits must be hereditary. I'm gonna have to start an exercise program if Dad stays with me through the end of hockey season."

Tina snorted. "You… exercise? That'll be the day."

"Hey, I exercise. I walk Blackie twice a day."

Tina gave an extra loud snort as she left my office. I packed up a few reports to read over the weekend and popped my head into Dawson's office to let him know I was leaving a few hours early.

"This is your last weekend as a free man. Next week you'll be shackled to the old ball and chain," I joked.

Dawson sported a wide grin. "I can't wait. I'm beyond anxious to marry Rosa. Next weekend can't get here soon enough for me." He was staring at the new poster of Rosa for the _'Join the Babe Nation'_ campaign. She looked stunning and was even sexier than in her first shoot. He finally tore his eyes away from the picture of his betrothed and looked over at me.

"Enjoy your weekend, Best Man. Next Saturday, you're at my beck and call," he said, giving me a wink.

"You want me to line up some strippers for your bachelor's party?" I couldn't resist teasing him.

I got an eye roll, a grin and a slow head shake for an answer. Dawson wasn't the type of man to enjoy a tawdry stripper show, but he had agreed to let me treat him to dinner one evening this next week. We were going to _Rosa's_ on one of Alex's nights as chef.

I left the office and stopped by the market to purchase the ingredients for empanadas and one of the spicy Cuban chicken dishes Rosa had showed me how to make.

As I carried the bags into the kitchen from the garage, I noticed Blackie didn't come greet me. Dad and Blackie had become inseparable in the short time he'd been living with us. I could hear music drifting up from the basement. Dad had kind of taken over the empty space, making it into his man cave. He and Blackie practically lived down there in the evenings.

After quickly putting the groceries away, I took two beers with me and followed the strains of one of my favorite golden oldie tunes downstairs. As I got closer to the basement, I could hear the words, _"I've got sunshine… on a cloudy day." _When I stepped through the door I found Dad asleep, stretched out on an old sofa with Blackie at his side. He'd set up an old turntable on an equally old and rickety card table. He'd been playing records – vinyl records. No cassettes, CDs or MP3 players for my old-fashioned father.

I tiptoed into the basement. Blackie looked up at me and gently wagged his tail, but he didn't get up to greet me. Setting the beers down on the table, I looked at the boxes of old record albums Dad must have brought with him when he moved in with me. I didn't remember ever seeing them before, but our basement had been off limits to us kids.

Lying next to the turntable was the album cover for the record that was currently playing. It was _"Time Out for Smokey Robinson and the Miracles"_ and the song playing was _"My Girl."_ It had always been one of my favorites, though I didn't know why. I usually preferred heavy metal.

I wondered if this was the song Dad used to woo Mom? My father just didn't seem like the type to dance cheek to cheek while humming a love song. And I couldn't imagine my mother being swept off her feet or even dancing cheek to cheek. But they were young once too, so I suppose anything's possible, especially when hormones are raging.

"Hey, Pumpkin." Dad's voice startled me out of my reverie.

I glanced over at my father, now sitting up on the sofa. "Hey, Sleepy Head. Taking a trip back in time?" I asked as I looked through the old albums packed tightly in one of the boxes.

Dad unfolded himself and came over to look at the records with me. "Kinda. I used to play these all the time. Smokey Robinson was one of my favorites. I have all of his albums and even some singles. They were a big part of my life back then, but… I don't know… life took over. I'd forgotten all about them. Playin' 'em today brought back a lot of good memories."

"Memories of you and Mom in better times, before Val and I came along and spoiled things?" I quipped. "I always liked _'My Girl.'_ Did you sing this to Mom to win her heart?"

"Hardly. Ellen hates this kind of music or anything from Motown. I love it. The Motown Sound was always on the radio when I was in Vietnam. We played music or sang all the time – it brought back memories of home, of better times, of where we longed to be. This song, in particular, though, has special meanin' for me."

The chorus started and Dad joined in, singing, _"What can make me feel this way?" _And then he opened his arms in invitation and, surprised, I stepped into them and he twirled me around the basement, singing the answer, _"My girl (my girl, my girl). Talkin' bout my girl (my girl)." _We swayed to the music, both of us singing the lyrics, off-key mind you, but not caring.

"This is _our_ song," he said as he dipped me backward and I let out a long string of giggles. Blackie stayed on the sofa, his head cocked in puzzlement as he watched us laugh and dance together.

I was doing pretty good keeping in step with my old man. "You mean yours and Mom's song?" I said more as a statement than as a question.

He shook his head. "Ours. _Yours and mine_. I bought this album the day you were born. The first time I held you, something just clicked in me. And this song kept playin' in my head. I'd finally found _my girl_. When both sets of our parents arrived at the hospital, excited to see their newest granddaughter, I slipped out for a little while. It took me some time, but I finally found this album in a used bookstore and knew it was _the one_."

My feet stopped working and I just stood there staring at my father. _Our song?_ _We had a song_? Why was I just now hearing about it?

"Dad…?" I started.

"You're probably wonderin' why I'm tellin' you this now." The song ended and the record started skipping. Dad released me and moved over to the turntable, lifting up the arm. He mumbled under his breath, "Gotta get that fixed." He smiled over at me and placed the needle on just the right spot of the record. _'My Girl'_ started playing again. Dad came back and we resumed dancing.

"When you were a baby, I used to dance you to sleep to _'My Girl.'_ As soon as the song started to play, you'd smile and coo and giggle and stare into my eyes. As long as I was holdin' you in my arms and waltzin' round the room, you were good to go. When I dipped you, you'd laugh and laugh. I guess you could say we bonded over this song." His voice was soft with an amused inflection.

"I thought you said Mom hated this kind of music?"

Dad's jaw tightened. "Ellen complained constantly about my choice of music and said it wasn't good for you – too loud. I finally boxed up my albums and stored them in the basement. But I'd still sing 'My Girl' to you when you refused to go to sleep. It was the only thing that'd do the trick."

"Wow!" I never knew any of this. "No wonder this has always been a favorite song of mine." I laid my head on his shoulder as we slowly shuffled back and forth to the music.

And then my head popped up. "Wait! You said you were in _Vietnam_? I didn't know you'd served in the military." How could I not know something so important about my own father? I was learning all sorts of things about my father since he'd moved in.

My dad gazed at me for a few moments as if debating what to say. When he finally spoke, it was with sadness and something else, maybe a touch of bitterness?

"It was a different time, a terrible time. One I'd rather forget."

He pulled away from me, and from the moment, as if the memories were too much. He shut his eyes and his head fell back. The song ended and the needle scratched across the record. Dad shook his head and then switched off the turntable, taking his time putting the album back in its jacket. When he looked at me again, there was an aura of deep sadness about him.

He exhaled audibly and asked, "What do you want to know?" A look of resignation was in his face and posture as he said, "Ask your questions now, because I won't talk about it again."

I didn't want to upset him, but I really wanted to know more about this 'secret' period in my dad's life. "How long did you serve?" I began.

He grabbed one of the beers off the table and moved over to the sofa. "All in all, two years, just like most of the guys back then. That was in the days of the old draft and, unless you were very rich or physically disqualified, you served your time like everybody else. I was in the Army. In some ways, it was the best time of my life, and other ways, it was the worst." He upended the bottle and took a long swig. "I made some really good friends over there and, in spite of the death and horror, we managed to have some pretty good times. But it _was_ war and I saw… _things_… that I wish I could forget." His last few words were said in a harsh whisper. He took several sips of beer in quick succession. He seemed fidgety, which wasn't like my dad.

I sat down on the other end of the sofa and set the unopened second beer on the coffee table. Blackie moved over and cuddled up next to me. "I'm sorry, Dad. I can't even begin to imagine what you went through." As much as I was feeling my father's pain, I couldn't help thinking of Carlos and what he was going through right now.

"How do you deal with… with what you've seen?"

There was a long pause and Dad scratched his chin several times before he spoke. "Honestly, I don't know that I've ever dealt with it, Pumpkin. It is what it is. You move on," he said matter of factly. He slumped back into the deep cushions of the old sofa and took another sip of beer.

His voice sounded hollow when he spoke next. "We thought we were fightin' for freedom… for the Vietnamese people, as well as for ourselves, helpin' to stop the spread of communism. But mainly, I was just a soldier followin' orders. It was a different kinda war than our country was used to fightin', not like all those old movie pictures of World War II we used to watch. The enemy wasn't clear-cut. Much of the time we were in chaos, buggin' out whenever the enemy got too close."

I didn't know a lot about that time in our history except that it was an ugly war and we treated our returning soldiers like crap. And I just found out my father was one of those soldiers. It explained a lot about his quietness over the years.

"You said you were in the Army? What did you do? Did you handle the mail like you did at the Post Office? Please tell me you were a cook or did clerical work, something safe."

Dad let out a mirthless chuckle. "I don't know if any military job was 'safe' in Vietnam back then. I was mostly… in the bush, in the field the first half of my tour of duty."

"Where were you stationed?"

Again, there was a long pause before he answered, "When I first got there, I was assigned to Da Nang, but I moved around a lot. I didn't exactly have a… normal deployment." He upended his beer and finished it off, setting the empty bottle on the table in front of us.

I shifted on the sofa to face him, but remained silent. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. I didn't want to push him. I decided whatever he felt comfortable telling me would have to be enough.

Dad leaned over and grabbed the unopened beer. Flipping the cap off, he took a long sip. Blackie leapt off the sofa as soon as he saw the cap soar through the air. He chased it across the floor and proudly pranced back to us with the cap clenched between his teeth. Dad took the cap from Blackie and praised him. I thought the disruption would stop any further discussion about the Army, but the beer must have loosened him up.

"I guess what I'm about to tell you is now considered unclassified, so it's OK."

_Unclassified?_ I thought he was a regular army soldier. What exactly had my father done during the war?

He stood up abruptly and moved over to the boxes he'd stored in a corner of the basement. He brought one of them back and set it between us on the middle sofa cushion.

"Vietnam was not a 'by the book' kinda war. Hell, it wasn't even a war, according to the politicians. But whatever it was called, it was ugly… and people died. Too many good people died."

He took another sip of beer and pulled an old black and white photograph out of the box. He handed it to me and I recognized my dad right away, though he looked so young… and handsome. He was standing with several other guys, all in army fatigues. "Those men became like brothers to me. They were killed during a search and destroy op."

_Jeez._ I took another look at the soldiers in the picture. They were all so young, right out of high school. "I'm so sorry, Dad. That must have been really hard." I didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah, it was, and it wasn't the only time I lost good friends. When I joined up, I did it with my best friend, Tamás Farkas."

The name sounded familiar. "I've heard of him. Didn't Mom know him, too?"

Dad cut his eyes to me, staring, then he nodded and looked away. His voice was quiet when he told me the next piece of startling news.

"Tam dated your mother all through high school. Ellen went to the all-girls Catholic school, but she and Tam belonged to the same church parish. The Hungarian community in the Burg was a tight-knit group back then. There was a lot of pressure to date and marry your own kind."

"Your _best friend_ dated Mom?" I cried, surprised at this new information. I'd never heard much about either of my parents' lives before they got married.

With his eyes fixed on his beer bottle, Dad continued, "I didn't really know Ellen back then. She and her family moved in different circles than my family. But Tam lived down the street from me and we went to the same schools." A lopsided grin showed on Dad's face. "We were opposites in everything. I was good in sports, and Tam was an intellectual genius. He liked classical music; I liked rhythm and blues. Tam was polite and reserved, while I was the class clown." I gave my dad a quizzical look. He gave a harsh chuckle and said, "Yeah, you'd never know it now."

"What happened?" I asked. "Not your sense of humor; I mean, what happened to Tam."

Dad turned away, looking anywhere but at me. His voice was low and slow when he continued.

"Tam and I went through Basic together at Fort Dix and then we shipped out to Da Nang. Once we were in-country, our platoon was assigned to clear out a section of jungle. By that, I mean clear it of the enemy, the Viet Cong. We had to do that frequently, bivouackin' for weeks at a time. Like I said before, it was hard to tell who was the enemy and who was your ally." He lifted the bottle to his lips and let the beer slide down his throat, before setting the bottle back on the table in front of us.

"On our last foray together, something went terribly wrong. We had a bunch of boots, that's green recruits, with us, not that any of us were all that experienced. We'd been there less than six months, but at the time it seemed like forever." Dad shook his head and his voice became ragged.

"Everything happened so fast. Suddenly, we had contact. We were surrounded by VC and our retreat was cut off. All hell broke loose. We'd been through training and orientation, but nothin' really prepares you for the realities of an actual firefight. Especially guerilla warfare in a hot stinkin' jungle." He was breathing heavily, like he was trying to control his emotions and not having much success.

"Only three of us made it back…" Dad dipped his head and rubbed his face with both hands, "Tam wasn't one of them." I'd rarely seen my father so discomposed. It was a while before he spoke again and when he did, he had a hard time finding the words.

"I watched my best friend… die right before my eyes. Something changed… in that instant, _I changed_. I… hardened. _I did things…_"

"Dad, I…" He was trying to tell me that he'd done terrible things, that he'd killed people. I wanted to tell him I understood. It was war, he was a soldier and he did what he had to do. "Dad, I understand. You don't…"

"Pumpkin, I hope you never truly understand. I wouldn't wish that on you, or on anybody."

"I meant I understand you had to do things, things that… probably took lives."

In a low but harsh voice, Dad uttered, "If that was the only thing…" Two long swigs of beer this time and several deep breaths. Blackie moved over and put his head on Dad's knee. My father absently reached out and stroked Blackie's fur. He seemed more settled, or maybe resigned after that.

"I was in Nam at a time when the U.S. needed a lot of specially trained troops and there just weren't enough skilled men to handle the demand. With my platoon decimated, the Army temporarily assigned me to a special unit. I'd gotten high marks as a rifleman and my commander had commended me for… for my actions on that last… _cluster fuck_." His eyes closed and I could see his chest fill with air, though he didn't make a sound. He opened his eyes and continued.

"There was a Special Forces unit that was down several men and they needed…" he paused for a long moment, as if searching for the right word, "… someone skilled with a rifle for a critical op. I seemed to fit the bill and we were successful in completing our mission. After that they used me for a few more missions. It was all on-the-job training. Each mission was more… _difficult_ than the last, but I did as I was ordered… no matter what."

"After that, my commander asked me if I wanted to go through the necessary advanced training to be permanently assigned to Special Forces, but … my heart just wasn't in it. Not after everything I'd seen and… done… and lost. The missions I'd been a part of had been directed by the Agency, that's what we called the CIA, and were classified ops. I just wasn't cut out for that kind of intrigue and… intensity."

"I don't understand. I thought you were just regular army?" I asked.

"I started out that way, but you go where the government tells you to go, no questions asked. Suffice it to say that I saw and did things that no father wants to talk to his daughter about." He took another sip of beer and then sighed heavily.

"You'll be happy to know, Pumpkin, that I spent the remainder of my time in-country handlin' the mail. After turnin' down the offer to join Special Forces, my commander asked me what assignment I wanted and I told him Personnel. My 'experience' there qualified me for the job at the Post Office."

One last gulp and the second beer was history. As my dad set the bottle on the table he gave me a half-hearted grin and announced, "Another dead soldier." _Great, Army humor!_

I'm sure my father hoped our little talk was over, but I wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet. Glancing in the box of Dad's army stuff, I noticed a ragged piece of cloth. I picked it up and took a closer look. It looked like a 'do-rag' made out of khaki. Someone had drawn an abstract graphic in black ink on the part that covered the forehead. I held it up to Dad and he smiled. It was nice to see that something from his memorabilia could make him smile.

"What's this?" I asked.

He took it from me and tied it around his head. "A friend of mine made this for me because I never stopped sweatin'. The jungle heat and humidity were miserable and this little rag saved my life more than once by keepin' the sweat outta my eyes."

"What's the drawing?" I asked.

He touched the graphic and said, "It's an eagle. That was my… my code name. Each man in my Special Forces squad had a code name. I was _The Eagle_. I was known for my eagle eye, an essential skill for a sniper."

_Omigod! A sniper!_ When he said he was a rifleman, I thought… I don't know what I'd thought. I couldn't believe my father had been a sniper working for the CIA! Was this the same man who'd just danced with me to the sweet song, _"My Girl"_? This was my quiet father we were talking about, the man who'd worked for the Post Office for the past thirty years. I kept looking over at him, trying to imagine him sneaking through the jungle carrying a deadly rifle intent on killing another human being.

And then it hit me! My dad was just like Carlos! Carlos was serving his country as a Delta Force soldier and my father had served on a Special Forces team, even if only for a short time. The realization stunned me into silence.

Dad pulled out the rest of the items in the box and told me stories about each one, including the Army Commendation medal and an Expert Marksmanship Badge he'd been awarded. I was absolutely floored. The more he talked, the more relaxed I was with the idea of my dad as a badass Rambo. He answered the rest of my questions. I found out my father had been on some pretty dangerous missions and had survived them, which gave me renewed hope that Carlos would make it home safe and sound, too.

He told me about going to see Ellen Mazur – Mom – when he returned to the States. His best friend, Tamás, had confided to my father that he intended to marry Ellen when he got out of the Army. They weren't formally engaged, but there was an understanding between them that when he returned from Vietnam, they'd get married.

Dad felt obligated to see Ellen and tell her about Tam, and to give her some things his best friend had wanted his 'girl' to have. After that, Dad and Mom started going out for an occasional cup of coffee. That led to seeing a movie together. And then they started dating in earnest. They had a whirlwind courtship and were married three months after Dad came home. Dad said he was pretty messed up when he got out of the Army and he just wanted to put it all behind him and get on with his life. So that's what he did – he got a job, got married, had kids and settled down.

We were being pretty open with each other so I asked him point-blank, "Were you happy? _Are_ you happy?"

"I thought I was. I did what I thought would make me happy. I was livin' the American dream. I had a steady job, I owned my own home, I drove an American car, and I had a pretty wife who took good care of me. And I was honorin' my best friend, by takin' care of his girl. At first, Ellen and I tiptoed around each other, tryin' to please, tryin' not to 'rock the boat'. She was a damned good wife. She kept a clean house, she was a good cook and she lived within our budget. She gave me two beautiful daughters." Dad smiled and patted my knee. "She gave me 'my girl'."

"But then she got busy with church and the PTA, and we didn't talk very much or do very many things together anymore. I started hearin' things like, 'We can't do that, what would the neighbors say?' What I wanted no longer mattered unless it fit her mold of a good Burg family. It was easier to let her do things her way, so I went to work every day and came home to a tidy house and dinner on the table at 6 o'clock sharp. I made enough money to take care of my family and provide a stable life for you and Valerie. It hasn't been a glamorous life or an excitin' one, but… until recently, I've had no reason to complain."

I hated to hear that my dad had never really been happy. He'd settled. And maybe he'd had a touch of survivor's guilt? His best friend had died in front of him and he had walked away, alive. Was marrying Mom his way of trying to make it up to Tam Farkas for him living when his friend hadn't?

"Dad, hearing you say that makes me sad. You shouldn't have to settle for anything. Valerie and I are grown now and we don't need you to provide anything but your love and support. It's time you made decisions that make _you_ happy, not everybody else around you. If that's a life with Mom, great, but if you choose another path, that's great, too. I'll support you, no matter what you decide."

"So, if I decide to become a beach bum and move to Bora Bora, you'd be OK with that?" he grinned.

"Sure, as long as Carlos and I can come visit," I quipped. "Seriously, you should do whatever makes you happy and it's obvious you aren't happy with the way things are now."

"I just can't live with your mother right now, not the way she's been actin'."

"Then you need to have a serious heart-to-heart talk with her and tell her things need to change. Now that Val and I are _adults_, you and she need to find a way to live your lives for yourselves, not for us. And if you can't agree on what makes both of you happy, then…"

"That's good advice, Pumpkin. When didja get so smart?"

_Rosa's POV_

It felt good to sink into the damask loveseat, a glass of wine in my hand. I was glad to be home, to finally be able to take off my shoes and tuck my cold feet under me. The day had been a tiring, but happy one.

I had spent the day with my 'matron of honor,' Teresa, checking on last minute wedding plans. I gave final approval on the cake decorations, the flower arrangements, and the music selections for the musical ensemble Dawson had hired to play for the ceremony and for the dinner afterward. Each store we visited was lavishly decorated for the upcoming Valentine's Day celebration. I pretended all the red hearts, flowers and candy were just for me, as that day would become my wedding day.

Teresa and I also stopped by the tailor's shop so I could have some minor alterations done to the long black skirt I planned to wear for the wedding ceremony. Teresa was a little concerned to learn I had lost some weight in the last month or so. I blushed when I told her I had been getting a lot more… ummm… _exercise_ since I had moved in with Dawson. At first she looked confused and then her eyes widened. She looked away, her cheeks turning redder by the second. And then she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. I laughed with her and felt _oh so wicked_.

Teresa had asked me today if my cheeks hurt. I thought it was a rather strange question until she informed me that she had never seen me smile so much. Smiling, I told her I had never been this happy before. She gave me a warm hug, knowing my past history had not always been so happy.

I took another sip of wine and thought of me together with my darling Dawson. Spontaneous laughter bubbled up my throat and pealed throughout the quiet living room. For the first time in my life, I felt loved by a man just for being me and it felt so very… good.

In just a matter of a few days, I would be Mrs. Dawson Books. The thought made me smile all over again. While I would always be forever a part of the Mañoso family, I was thrilled to take on the mantle of being Dawson's esposa, his wife… and his lover.

Spending the day with my daughter-in-law brought me back to reality. I had not seen my son since that awful night in December. I was happy for Teresa that she had been able to reconcile with Ricardo, but my son had not tried to make his amends with me. It was the only bit of sadness marring my happiness. I refused to allow Ricardo's stubbornness to bring me down though.

Teresa had asked me an odd question today. She asked if Ricardo had ever shown any interest in artistic endeavors such as painting or drawing. When I asked her what made her ask such a question, she told me she had found a beautiful sketch of a flower – an iris – which was her favorite. Ricardo had seemed upset when he found her with it and he tore it up, promptly dismissing any further talk of it.

The truth is Ricardo had once been passionate about drawing. When he was still a boy in school, he carried his sketchpad with him wherever he went. He drew everything: people, buildings, landscapes. And he was good at it! His father told him repeatedly to put away such nonsense, but I fought Alejandro to allow our young son to have this one bit of enjoyment.

Even when Ricardo was a young boy, Alejandro expected him to either be working at the restaurant, bussing tables and assisting the line cooks, or practicing the recipes at home after school. There was no time for my son to just be a child; there was no playing of any sports or spending time with the other boys in the neighborhood. His drawing was the only exception. He could sketch at odd moments: when he was on the school bus or the few minutes between classes or late at night when the house was quiet.

However, the minute Ricardo graduated from high school my husband issued an ultimatum and Ricardo obediently complied. My sensitive son – _yes, he once was a very perceptive and thoughtful boy –_ gathered up all his sketches, pencils and paints and threw them in the trash, trading them for the white coat of a chef.

As far as I knew, Ricardo had never looked back. Now, I was finding out I had been wrong. There was still a little of that precious boy left within him. It gave me hope that, someday, my son would relent and we could be a happy family again. And that even my Carlito and his beautiful Stephanie would be able to enjoy relaxed and happy family get-togethers. But until then, I would focus all my hopes and dreams on my novio.

**TBC**


	25. Chapter 25 Chapter 109

**CHAPTER 109**

_Teresa's POV_

Tomorrow is the big day! Mama Rosa will marry Dawson Books, a man I have come to respect and admire deeply. Everything has gone smoothly so far, especially considering the short amount of time we've had to pull it all together. We were a little worried about getting the word out, but Rosa decided she wanted only family members present at the wedding, so she and Dawson only sent out a small number of invitations as keepsakes. They'll send out the lovely pink and black wedding announcements to their many friends and associates after the fact, which we all agreed is the smart thing to do.

Mama Rosa specifically requested that we keep things rather low-key, since this wedding will be a small family affair. She didn't even want a rehearsal dinner because she feared Ricardo would make a scene. We tried to respect her wishes, we really did, but we girls just couldn't help ourselves.

My daughters and I held a bridal breakfast for Mama Rosa this morning and it turned into a rather interesting impromptu bridal shower. Besides my four daughters, my sister, Carmen, my daughter-in-law, Carolina, and my nephew Mateo's wife, Lucia, also attended the event. We were just moving from the living room into the dining room when the doorbell rang.

Celia, my oldest child, hosted the bridal breakfast at her house and I should have monitored her activities more closely. Unbeknownst to me, Celia had contacted Stephanie at her office and invited her to the bridal breakfast. Everyone knows I am Mama Rosa's only bridal attendant, but Celia thought it would be a nice idea to invite Dawson's "Best Man," Stephanie Plum to join us, too. Imagine my surprise – and Rosa's – when Carlos' secret novia arrived!

"Mama, Abuelita, look who's here," Celia beamed proudly as she led Stephanie into her large dining room. "It's Ms. Plum, from Books/Plum Designs! I know she's not family, but she's in the wedding party, so I thought it would be fun if she joined us this morning."

"Hello, everyone," Stephanie smiled brightly as she gazed around the room. "I'm sorry I'm late. Traffic was horrendous! I think all the drivers went crazy today because it's Friday the 13th."

The girls all clamored from their seats to greet the famous Ms. Plum, and everyone assured her she was right on time for the breakfast. She insisted we all call her by her first name and that cemented her to my daughters as a friend for life. In all the commotion, I stayed next to Mama Rosa for a few extra heartbeats. I hadn't spoken to my son's fiancée since that fateful night when Ricardo made such an ass of himself, so I could only imagine what she must think of us as her future in-laws. Rosa, of course, had become more comfortable around the young woman, especially since she'd been spending so much time at the office with Dawson. The man speaks flawless Spanish and is able to translate between the women, which must be a considerable comfort to both Rosa and Stephanie.

I know the color must have drained from my face, but I think my daughters only thought it was because Stephanie has earned almost idol status in our household. My girls know her as the business partner of the man their grandmother is marrying and as the woman who gave both their mother and their grandmother a chance to shine as models for the phenomenal _"Are you a Babe?"_ advertising campaign. It's safe to say Stephanie Plum has become their latest heroine. I shudder to think what Carlos would say if he could see us all together like this.

Of course, Mama Rosa recovered from the shock before I did and she walked around the table to greet Stephanie with a warm hug. Celia graciously translated Mama Rosa's welcoming speech for her and no one noticed my initial hesitance. Lucia gave me a conspiratorial wink and I almost fainted. The potential for disaster was so great here, among all of my very nosy daughters, I could barely breathe. At first, I couldn't imagine what Stephanie was thinking by jeopardizing her secret identity, but then I realized she now had a great opportunity to see my family in a better light than she had before. As soon as I became comfortable with that idea, I was able to relax a little and enjoy myself.

After a brief round of introductions, we all sat down to a scrumptious breakfast of Cuban-style _huevos _(scrambled eggs with onions, peppers, garlic, tomatoes and cheese), _croquetas de jamón_ (smoky creamed ham shaped into finger rolls, lightly breaded and then fried), spinach and cheese _empanadas_, as well as the traditional _tostadas_, or grilled Cuban bread, and _café con leche_, a very strong combination of espresso with warm milk, into which we dipped pieces of the toasted bread. All of my children are good cooks, so we always say, "No one will ever go hungry if there is a Mañoso in the house."

Celia kept up a running dialogue of translations between Stephanie and Mama Rosa as the meal progressed. Everything was fine and then the conversation took a dangerous turn. It began so innocently, I didn't realize the danger until it was almost too late.

"So tell us, Stephanie, how did you become a designer of such high-end undies?" asked Lena, my very pregnant youngest daughter.

Maria, the younger of my twin girls, giggled and said, "Oh, Lena! Don't be silly. I believe the correct terminology is _'intimate apparel'._"

After a round of giggles from the others, Pilar, the older of my twin girls, piped up and said in her usual sharp tone, "Honestly! Doesn't anybody in this family surf the Internet besides me? There must be dozens of news interviews and articles online about Ms. Plum. And I'm sure she doesn't want to talk about business today anyway. What _I_ want to know is this: do you have a _special_ man in your life?"

Stephanie almost choked on the mouthful of _huevos_ she had just placed in her mouth before Pilar had launched her intrusive question. Mama Rosa admonished my daughter for being so nosy, but she was unrepentant. By then, even though they knew they shouldn't, everyone was looking at Stephanie expectantly. After all, inquiring minds did want to know.

"Well," Stephanie swallowed her food and carefully avoided eye contact with either me or Rosa before she began. "There _is_ a special man in my life. Very special. It's a … a long distance relationship for the time being, though."

"Is that what your opal ring signifies?" Pilar asked as she flicked her eyes toward Stephanie's ring finger.

"Pilar!" Mama Rosa and I gasped at the same time. Rosa continued to chastise my daughter in Spanish.

Pilar pressed her lips together for a moment and then her words whooshed out despite her effort to hold them in, "I'm only asking because I _like_ Stephanie! And I was just thinking she'd be a good match for Carlos." Then she turned to Stephanie and explained, "Carlos is our brother – younger than Celia and Alex, but older than the rest of us. He's tall, dark and handsome!"

"He's also in the Army," Lena quickly added, her voice full of adoration. "We're not even allowed to know where he is or what he's doing most of the time. But we're all very proud of him anyway. Well, everyone but Papa." And she became shy again, staring down at her big belly.

My heart nearly stopped beating as I listened to my girls singing the praises of their brother to the woman who already held his heart in her hands.

"Oooo, you're so right, Pilar," gushed Maria. "It's already a shame he's going to miss out on Abuelita's wedding, but it's doubly a shame he won't get to meet Stephanie." Then her dark eyes became dreamy and she said, "Can't you just imagine the two of them dancing together? Carlos' tall, muscular frame holding on to Stephanie's willowy loveliness – I bet they'd make the perfect couple on the dance floor!"

Stephanie blushed and started to say something, but Pilar cut her off.

"Don't pay her any attention, Stephanie," Pilar rolled her eyes. "Maria lives for sappy romance. Her poor husband has to put up with lots of pink and floral prints all over her house. It's positively revolting. Although… I do agree with her – you and Carlos would look very good together."

Thankfully, Carmen took control when she said, "Well, it's a moot point, so stop being such a sap, Maria. And Pilar, stop trying to stir up trouble where there is none. Yes, Carlos is a dreamboat and, yes, Carlos probably would like Stephanie very much if he ever had the chance to meet her. But the simple truth is he's not here and, as Stephanie has already stated, she's not available. Now, who's ready for mimosas?"

"I am!" Mama Rosa and I both exclaimed at the same time – she in Spanish and me in English. We exchanged a quick glance and smiled nervously at the other women around the table.

"More coffee would be great, too," I commented and then I asked Stephanie about her shiny sports car. This led to a discussion of dream cars and dream houses and dream vacations.

Finally, Pilar asked, "Abuelita, are you and Dawson going away for a honeymoon?" She had addressed her grandmother in Spanish and Celia dutifully translated for Stephanie.

Mama Rosa smiled slowly and answered in Spanish, "But of course, my dear. Surely you don't think such fun is reserved only for you younger people, do you? Ever since Dawson Books came into my life, I feel very young indeed. And you know what? My novio happens to be several years younger than I am, so I suppose you could call me a – how do you say? Oh yes, a big jungle cat."

We all looked puzzled until Celia said, "Abuelita, are you trying to say you're a '_cougar'_?"

Beaming with mischievous pleasure, Mama Rosa nodded and said, "That's the word! In the old days, they called it 'robbing the cradle' and today they call an older woman who captivates the heart of a younger man a 'cougar.' I heard it on the _Christina! Show_."

Stephanie laughed aloud after Celia translated Mama Rosa's outrageous statement. Celia also explained that Christina was the Latina version of Oprah and her show was just as, if not more popular in our culture. We all grinned at Rosa, who was very proud of her self-proclaimed cougar status.

When the girls stopped giggling, Pilar asked again, "Abuelita, do you know where you're going on your honeymoon?"

"No, curious one," Rosa replied with a throaty laugh. "But Dawson did tell me to pack for warm weather and to have my passport with me at all times."

"Oooo, that's so romantic!" Maria squealed again, earning glares from her older sisters.

Lena exclaimed, "We're so happy for you, Abuelita!"

"Yes," agreed Pilar. "Now if only Papa would get that stick out of his –"

"Pilar! Do _not_ say what you were about to say," I warned.

"Well, it's true!" Carmen chimed in with disdain chilling her voice. "Ricardo does act like he's got a stick up his behind. I _still_ can't believe you went back to him, Teresa. He's been nothing but disrespectful this whole time. Is he even coming to his own mother's wedding or is he planning to sulk at home?"

Every head turned my direction and I took a deep breath before answering. "Yes, Ricardo will be my escort to the wedding tomorrow. I will not bear the embarrassment of attending such a momentous occasion by myself. He is under the strictest orders to keep his venom to himself and behave like a dutiful son. Father Brady backed me up on this. I suspect Ricardo's tongue will have deep tooth marks in it at the end of the day; that is, if he hasn't bitten it completely off by then." I smiled to lessen the severity of my words and there were a few nervous chuckles around the room.

"Well… okay, then," Celia breathed. "I think it's time for presents."

"Oh, no, my dears," Mama Rosa protested. "I told you I didn't want a big fuss."

"Abuelita, it's not a big deal," Celia replied as she rose from the table. "We all just wanted you to have a few new things to start out your new life – _as a cougar_." She winked and then beckoned us all into her living room.

When everyone was seated comfortably around the gift-laden coffee table, Maria said, "You know, since you're not having a rehearsal dinner, Abuelita, we don't have to worry about saving the ribbons and bows for your mock bouquet."

Everyone laughed at her observation and the bridal shower part of the morning began. My daughters and daughter-in-law had pitched in together to give their grandmother a complete set of high quality luggage. The set included large, medium and small rolling suitcases, nested inside of each other, as well as a matching carry-on bag and a small cosmetic case. Mama Rosa's eyes lit up with delight.

Celia beamed and said, "Mama told us you've still got the same set of old luggage from back when you came over from Cuba. We thought it was high time for a change."

Mama Rosa merely nodded in agreement, tears filling her eyes. I knew she couldn't speak, because the plain truth was she'd rarely traveled anywhere outside of the continental United States in the past twenty years. In fact, Ricardo was so overly protective of his mother, he didn't want her to go to any locations where Spanish wasn't the primary language. During the last decade, she had been on vacation only to Puerto Rico and Mexico with her regular group of lady friends.

My sister and her daughter-in-law gave Mama Rosa a gift certificate to the famous Elizabeth Arden Red Door Spa on Fifth Avenue in New York City. My mother-in-law sometimes visited a local day spa to have her hair and nails done, but I knew she had never been to such a fancy place as the Red Door. Lucia explained that one of Mateo's clients was a major investor in the upscale establishment and was able to secure special deals for special friends.

"Besides," Lucia commented, "Now that you'll be the wife of the owner of the country's hottest line of lingerie, I bet you'll be able to book your own regular sessions there."

"Thank you, Carmen and Lucia," Mama Rosa replied. "This is most generous. I'll probably need a spa day when I return from wherever it is that my new husband is taking me and this will be perfect."

"Please open my gift next," pleaded Stephanie. "I can't stand the suspense any longer."

Everyone laughed while Celia translated. Then Mama Rosa nodded and picked up the shiny, silver-wrapped package. We all "oooo-ed" and "aaah-ed" as Rosa lifted the length of silky white material from the large box. It was a luxurious negligee set; its full-length robe had a thick collar of fluffy white ostrich feathers. Stephanie smiled with gleeful satisfaction as Rosa admired the sexy, but classy, garments.

"This set is newer than new!" Stephanie gushed. "It's actually a prototype – Dawson hasn't even seen it yet, so it hasn't been approved for mass production at this time. Our team put it together at my request – especially for you, Rosa. Let's hope it won't be one-of-a-kind. We're hoping Dawson will give the outfit 'two thumbs up' after you model it for him on your honeymoon."

Mama Rosa actually blushed as Celia translated Stephanie's statement.

"And last, but not least," I said, as I carefully placed my gift in front of Mama Rosa, "This one is from Ricardo and me. Of course, he doesn't know he's giving this to you, but I'm sure he'll be fine with it once I tell him."

Rosa unwrapped the gift and then tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed directly into my eyes. It was a photo album, a scrapbook, really. There were pictures of every member of our family. The oldest ones were in black and white. The photos, ticket stubs, newspaper articles and other pieces of memorabilia represented so many years of Mañoso family life. Soon every one of us had tears in our eyes.

After a while, Mama Rosa cleared her throat and began to speak, "Thank you all for coming out on this cold February morning to celebrate my upcoming wedding. This has been a very special time for me and I am grateful to have each and every one of you in my life. My Alejandro has been gone for many years now and I never thought I would find the kind of happiness I am experiencing with Dawson. Each day truly is a blessing and I hope you all will get to know the wonderful man I am marrying tomorrow. I only wish my precious Carlito …" she hesitated and wiped the tears from her eyes before she continued, "May God bring Carlos home safely to us. Please know that Dawson and I look forward to welcoming you all into our home as we begin to build even more family memories." Then she patted the scrapbook and smiled. "I will always be a member of the Mañoso family. Now, it is time for my beauty rest so I will be at my best for the big event. You know how cranky we Mañosos get when we are tired."

Everybody laughed as Celia finished translating for Stephanie and then we all hugged Mama Rosa before the party broke up. It was mid-afternoon by the time everyone else had departed and Rosa was ready for me to take her back to the home she now shared with Dawson Books. We drove in silence for a while before she spoke.

"That was a close one, Teresa," she said and I didn't have to guess what she meant.

I nodded. "I know, I know. My girls were practically trying to play matchmaker between Carlos and Stephanie. Thank goodness she has such a quick mind and quiet tongue."

Rosa sighed. "I do not even want to think about how our Carlito would react if he knew what went on today. We are going to have to be very, very careful tomorrow and in the days to come. Not only must Ricardo be on his best behavior, but he and Alejandro and Mateo are also going to have to act as though they barely know Stephanie. To them – and to all of us, really – she must only be Dawson's wonderful business partner and friend, so that none of the girls will become suspicious."

"Oh, but Mama Rosa, you saw how much my daughters really liked Stephanie," I groaned. "I can already imagine them trying to become better friends with her, especially if they think there's even the tiniest possibility of matching her up with their brother."

"It is going to be a very long year," Rosa sighed again.

All I could do was to nod my head in agreement. A very long year indeed.

_Stephanie's POV_

Omigod! Omigod! _Omigod_!

I _cannot_ believe I just did that! Why, oh, why did I agree to attend Rosa's bridal breakfast? I'm such an idiot! What if Carlos' sisters had discovered my true place in their brother's life? What if they decided they didn't approve of our relationship after all? Omigod! He'd kill us all.

I've decided to avoid the Mañoso family – except Rosa, of course – as much as possible after the wedding celebration. That's the safest thing for me to do at this point. The situation is too complex and dangerous. Too many people – Ricardo, Alex, Mateo, Lucia, Rosa and Teresa, not to mention Dawson – already know the truth about me and Carlos. Every encounter with the extended family increases the risk of discovery. There is no way I want to be responsible for 'spilling the beans' to the rest of the Mañosos.

Still, today was lots of fun. I liked all of Carlos' sisters, even Pilar. And it's truly amazing to see the way Rosa has her entire family believing she can't speak English. I have to wonder how things must have been for her after her husband died and Ricardo took his 'mantle of responsibility' far too seriously. I'm resisting the urge to feel sorry for her, though, because she's so deliciously devious. I'm glad she's on my side!

After I left the bridal breakfast at Celia's house, I figured there was a little time before Teresa returned home, so I called Ricardo on his cell phone. If he heard about my attendance at the bridal breakfast from his wife, he was likely to react very badly. We didn't need any more stress than we already had. He picked up after several rings and he was not happy to hear from me.

"Estefania?" he said coolly. "I am surprised to hear from you. I thought we were supposed to limit our contact, which I think is a very good idea, especially since you seem to be against me, too. My whole family – my wife, my children, even my grandchildren – everyone says I am wrong to be so upset about my mother marrying that opportunistic cad of a man tomorrow. But I am not wrong! Cannot anyone else see this marriage is doomed to failure? Why am I considered the bad guy here? Why me?"

I sighed. It was difficult to believe just how stubborn Ricardo was being about his mother's remarriage. You'd think he would be glad that she was so deliriously happy. Or that he'd at least be content that his mother was marrying a wealthy and cultured man who would take exquisite care of her in her golden years. But no, it was not to be. Sometimes it seems that Ricardo Mañoso and Ellen Plum are cut from the same cloth. Bitter and whiny, opinionated and negative.

"I apologize for calling you like this, but I felt the need to warn you about what just happened," I quickly explained. "I don't want you to have a heart attack when Teresa tells you I was at the bridal breakfast this morning."

"You were _where_?" he exploded.

"Calm down, Ricardo!" I ordered. "This is exactly why I'm calling you now. I knew you would need some time to cool off so you'll be less likely to upset your wife when she explains the situation to you after she gets home. Celia didn't tell anyone she had invited me to the breakfast – I _am_ Dawson's 'Best Man' after all. And I just assumed they all knew I would be there. It _was_ a little bit awkward for Teresa and Lucia at first, but I don't think anyone really noticed."

Ricardo continued to rage, "How can you expect me to calm down when what you have just told me has the potential to ruin my life? Did my daughters figure out who you really are to Carlos?"

"No, no," I quickly tried to reassure him with a soothing tone of voice. "To them, I'm still plain old Stephanie Plum, designer of high-quality lingerie and business partner to their future step-grandfather. They did, however, act like they wanted to set me up on a date with Carlos when he returns."

"Madre de Dios!" he exclaimed. "You are playing with fire, Estefania! I know my daughters; they can be relentless when it comes to finding potential dates and mates for their brother. How did Teresa and Lucia react to the attempted matchmaking?"

"They were very cool and didn't give _anything_ away," I assured him. "Our secrets are safe for another day."

"Yes, the women in my life have become quite the experts at keeping secrets," he grumbled.

"From my observations thus far, I'd say it's a family trait, with no exclusions," I replied dryly and Ricardo actually snorted a laugh.

"So, now that you have spent more time with my girls, what do you think?" he asked. "Do you think Carlos was right to keep you from meeting everyone before he left?"

I considered his question for a moment and then answered, "Actually, I can see both sides of Carlos' predicament now. The women in your family are as nosy as my own relatives. Your wife and daughters like me because they first came to know me as the co-creator of the _Babe!_ lingerie line, which happened after Carlos left. I'm not sure they would have accepted me so readily if I'd merely been introduced to them as Carlos' previously unknown fiancée before he left. As for your mother, well, Rosa is in a class by herself. She befriended my business partner when she answered the ad to become one of my company's models and, as you might imagine, we've begun to forge a deeper relationship from there. I expect Dawson will want to include Rosa on at least a few of our business decisions in the future."

I didn't want to give away any hint of the true depth of my relationship with Rosa, but I wanted Ricardo to know I considered her to be a very special lady.

"Hmph! My mother knows _nothing_ of business," Ricardo grumbled. "My father protected her from the harsh realities of life. Of course, my mother was always wise in the ways of running a home and raising a family, but she has become silly and foolish since that despicable man swept her off her feet. I barely recognize her anymore!"

"Ricardo!" I exclaimed. "How can you say such things? Have you seen or spoken to your mother lately? She's happy. Very, very happy. Why can't you just be happy for her, too?"

"It's ridiculous, I tell you!" Ricardo exploded over the airwaves again. "She's behaving like a silly schoolgirl! And you and my wife and all the others are only adding fuel to her foolish fire!" I could imagine him waving his arms wildly as he paced back and forth in his house.

I sighed and tried again. "Dawson Books is one of the finest men I know. Remember, he's also _my_ business partner. He's the man who gave me the chance of a lifetime and we're taking the world by storm. Trust me. Dawson loves your mother more than life itself. You won't find a better man for her than him."

"I wasn't looking for a better man," Ricardo said bitterly. "I wasn't looking for any man at all for my mother. My father should have been enough for her."

Ah! Now we were getting somewhere.

"Ricardo," I began gently. "Don't you think your mother has mourned the loss of your father long enough?"

"No," he replied sullenly.

"If, God forbid, Teresa dies before you do, do you honestly think your children will want you to remain single and lonely for the rest of your days?" I asked, wishing I could see his face to gauge his true reaction to my question.

After a long pause, he replied, "_That_ is different. I am a man."

"I see." Trying to hold back my temper, I said, "That's one of the most asinine, chauvinistic, overbearing things you've ever said to me, Ricardo. Maybe this phone call was a mistake, but I'm warning you – as a friend – don't you dare do anything to ruin Rosa and Dawson's wedding tomorrow. Or there will be hell to pay!"

Then I disconnected the call and drove home, praying that Ricardo would be on his best behavior tomorrow and hoping that nothing would mar the day for Rosa and Dawson.

_Ricardo's POV_

Tomorrow promises to be one of the worst days of my life. I cannot believe my mother – my fragile, elderly widow of a mother – will be marrying that impudent man, Dawson Books. He knows _nothing_ of honor. He knows _nothing_ of my family's proud traditions. He knows _nothing_ about the way my father – God rest his soul – sacrificed and toiled every night to make _Rosa's_ a classy restaurant that pays homage to my mother even to this day. _¡O, Dios!_ How can this be happening?

Teresa is angry with me again. We have been arguing over the fact that I cannot support this farce of a marriage between my mother and this … this … interloper. No one will be giving my mother away at the makeshift altar in Mr. Books' home. I refuse to call him Dawson. _Dawson_. What a ridiculous name! It is not fair that he speaks our language so fluently! I cannot even complain about the man without him knowing it. And it is unbearable that my own dear Teresa is going to be my mother's Matron of Honor. She and my daughter even threw a bridal breakfast for my mother this morning at the home of our daughter, Celia. It is ridiculous! What is this world coming to?

After Estefania's phone call and before Teresa returned home, I wandered through the house to try to clear my head. I went into one of the rooms she has been using as a sewing and crafts room and saw that she has been making scrapbooks again. My wife is quite artistic and creative in her own way with all the different colors of paper. She knows which photos belong with each other and the comments she writes on each page of a scrapbook truly tell the story of our lives.

I was tired of my thoughts, so I began flipping through the pages of several different scrapbooks. One was of our family Christmases. It is amazing to see how our children have grown up. Another book showcased all of my daughters' dance recitals. They were so pretty in their various costumes. The last one I picked up was very old. It took me a moment to realize the scrapbook contained many photos from before I was born.

Most of the photos were in black and white. There was one picture of my mother as a young bride in Cuba. Her wedding veil was pushed back and her eyes were turned away coquettishly while my father was speaking to her. There was another photo of my parents as my father twirled my mother in a dance. I gasped as I gazed at the beautiful woman my mother had been. The final black and white photo showed my mother as she was when she first came to America. She wore white gloves and a wool shawl. In the first color photo in the book, my mother was wearing a long string of pearls. She still wears those same pearls today. I remember she told me they were a gift from my father after _Rosa's _had had its first successful year of business.

Tears sprang into my eyes as I looked at the last photo of my mother in that particular scrapbook. It was taken on the tenth anniversary of _Rosa's_ success. My mother was lounging on one of the wrought iron benches outside of the restaurant, and she was wearing the luxurious fur coat my father had purchased for her to celebrate their elevated status in the local Cuban community. A painting of that photo still hangs in the restaurant to this day. I gulped as I realized, for the first time, just how sexy my mother had been. I quickly shut the scrapbook and placed it back on the shelf with the others.

I shuddered and went down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and think, but I did not like the direction of my thoughts. How could my mother have been sexy? I could not recall my father ever displaying any overt gestures of passion toward her. I am sure they loved each other; after all, they had my brother and me. Then again, no child likes to think about what their parents probably do in the privacy of their own bedchambers. Even a grown child!

Honestly, I _did not_ want to think about my mother and the man she was marrying, but how could I not? I refused to consider that man as my … as my _stepfather_. It was distasteful. I am of the opinion that women of a certain age, especially widows, should just live out their lives peacefully without too much excitement. _¡Dios mio!_ Why should a man my age have to accept a new stepfather? I cannot! I just cannot.

When Teresa returned home, I was glad Estefania had called to tell me she had attended the stupid bridal breakfast. She was so upset! I was able to hold in my own frustration at the entire situation while my wife explained her sheer terror that our daughters would discover Carlos and Estefania's secrets at any moment. It is a good thing so many people in my family know how to keep a secret, or else the proverbial cat would be out of the bag by now. What a fiasco that would be! I can only imagine my son's fury at everything that has already happened since he left the country. Teresa's fury at Celia inviting Estefania to the breakfast without her knowledge was bad enough. I think it was her fear that caused the fury, but thanks to Estefania's warning, I was able to remain relatively calm while my wife paced and fretted over all the things that could possibly go wrong tomorrow.

Due to Teresa's paranoia, I am banished from all preparations for the wedding ceremony, as well as the celebration afterward. My wife said my attitude is still too toxic and she will not allow me to poison my mother's happiness. Hah! Alejandro is handling the catering and I was not even allowed to adjust the appetizer or wine lists. Most of the menu selections are not even traditional Cuban dishes. It is shameful! All I may do tomorrow is escort my wife and stay quietly in my assigned place until the entire ordeal is over.

Despite my misgivings, I _will_ attend my mother's wedding. For the sake of peace in my own house, I will behave like the true gentleman I am. Father Brady has told me many times it is the least I can do. According to him, my mother is a grown woman and she has the right to choose her own path in life. I do not have to like or approve of the situation. And I certainly will not accept it deep in my heart. But I love my mother, so I will go tomorrow – and suffer in silence.

**TBC**


	26. Chapter 26 Chapter 110

**CHAPTER 110**

_Rosa's POV_

There are three very important things I have never told anyone in my family. Number one: I can understand, speak and write fairly fluently in the English language. Number two: I much prefer Thai, Italian, Greek or any other cuisine over the Cuban food I have eaten every day of my life since I was born. And last, but certainly not least, Number three: I was never in love with my first husband, Alejandro Mañoso.

In all truth and fairness, I did love Alejandro as a person. After all, he was the father of my two children. He worked hard to carve out a good life for our family here in America after we left Cuba. He built the highly successful restaurant that bears my name. He was a good man, a solid man. Yes, I loved Alejandro, but I never was _in love_ with him.

My mother always told me how blessed I was to have a husband who truly wanted to provide for his family in the best of ways. She told me it was better than having a dreamer for a husband – like my father – who never really lived up to his potential during his lifetime. My poor mother! She died before Alejandro could earn enough money to bring her to the States. She never saw any of her grandchildren, let alone great grandchildren. She never saw the great successes of her son-in-law. She also never saw the desperate loneliness I, her only daughter, experienced as Alejandro poured his heart, soul, mind and strength into making _Rosa's_ the premier restaurant it still is today. She never knew how empty my marriage was. What a sobering thought.

To be fair, I was only sixteen when I married Alejandro and he was already a man of thirty years, ready to establish himself in the restaurant business in the United States. I was so very full of life back then, and he was so very serious about everything. We had our first son when I was seventeen, our second son when I was eighteen, and then no more. Our precious Alejandro Pablo, Junior, died before his fourth birthday. After our devastating loss, my husband buried his pain by giving what remained of his love and energy and concern to both _Rosa's_ and young Ricardo until there was nothing left over for me. At the time, I was barely twenty-one, but I felt much, much older.

Dawson Books makes me feel young! Ever since the day we met, there is energy coursing through my veins and there is such vitality in my soul. I _never_ felt such things with Alejandro Senior. Even though he is several years younger than I am, Dawson and I have so much in common. He enjoys the same kinds of music and art I enjoy. We like to go out and try new restaurants. We have a lot of fun discussing books we have read, too. It is nice that my novio speaks Spanish and several other languages so fluently, but it really does not matter which language comes out of his mouth because he speaks the language of love quite eloquently as well.

Naturally, my family – especially my stubborn fool of a son – is struggling to understand how I could fall for a man whom they think is so different from the person they believe me to be. Of course, they see me as a frail, sheltered, and vulnerable old Cuban lady. They think I am marrying a man who cannot love me properly because he is not Cuban. And Ricardo thinks Dawson is taking advantage of the depth of my ignorance and fragility. None of them truly understands how content and joyful I was today as I exchanged marriage vows with the man I know I will love _and_ with whom I will be _in_ love until the day I die.

Yes, I am the happiest woman in the world! Today, I, Rosa Elena Garciapara Mañoso, married the love of my life, my novio, Dawson Horatio Books. It has been the best day of my life so far and I can hardly believe this really has happened. Who knew there could be such complete joy? I know the Blessed Mother has been watching over me my entire life, through all the good times and the bad, but I never thought I would be filled to overflowing with this amazing love. I am so giddy, I feel like I am sixteen again!

The entire day was perfect! Dawson and I had planned every detail of our wedding day so everything was the way _we_ wanted it to be. This was very different from my first wedding, where my mother and Alejandro's mother made all the decisions. I had had absolutely no say in any aspect of that day, from the wedding gown to the vows to the family party afterward. This time, Dawson and I made all the decisions together. We chose the flowers and decorations, the food and champagne, our wedding attire and the three-tiered wedding cake, so they all were, of course, magnificent.

Valentine's Day was gorgeous and clear, a windy, blue-sky Saturday. In fact, the wind had blown away most of the remaining snow and we could see the dormant, yet still-green grass. The wedding ceremony took place at three o'clock in the afternoon, which was not too early and not too late. We wanted to be able to ease into the day, have a great time celebrating with family and friends, and then get a good night's sleep before we boarded our morning flight to whatever destination Dawson had chosen for our two-week honeymoon.

Teresa and Ricardo arrived a couple of hours before everyone else so that she, as my Matron of Honor, could help me finish dressing while the photographer took pictures. Although I saw him for only a moment, I was amazed by my son's subdued nature. I know Ricardo still felt a bit scandalized over the lack of a nuptial Mass, but Father Brady explained how he, as our spiritual leader, was fine with the casual structure of this wedding between two mature people who have found love again after suffering through so many years of loneliness. While I believe Father Brady's frank discussions with Ricardo have helped my son to become more reasonable lately, I got the distinct impression my daughter-in-law read her husband the riot act before they came over.

Ricardo believes he has lost control of his world, but he does not seem to realize he never completely controlled it – and certainly not my part in it – anyway. At first, I was not even going to invite him to my wedding, but Dawson warned me I might regret such a decision as time went on. My wise novio was right, of course, and so I allowed my stubborn, unapologetic son to escort his wife to the wedding itself. I knew Ricardo would not be able to stay for the reception because Saturday is always the busiest night of the week at _Rosa's_ and Alejandro had the night off. Luckily, my son stayed on his best behavior during the ceremony, because I would not have tolerated anything less.

Unfortunately, Dawson's sister, Catherine and her famous architect husband, Marcus Ward, were not able to make it back from an important conference they were attending in Tokyo, but they sent their congratulations along with first class airline tickets to join them on vacation at their villa in Tuscany later in the year. Only Stephanie and Dawson's lawyer, Peter Swifford, and his wife were there as the "family" of the groom. Besides Teresa and Ricardo, my grandchildren and their spouses, as well as Carmen and her son and daughter-in-law, were in attendance as Dawson and I exchanged our simple vows. I tried not to think about my precious Carlito's absence. Thankfully, Stephanie's presence made me feel as though part of Carlos' heart was there with us anyway.

The grand foyer of our palatial home looked magnificent. Prior to and during the actual ceremony, the jazz combo we hired was set up next to our grand piano in the alcove near the base of the long staircase. The musicians were quite versatile. They could play everything from popular jazz standards to Latin salsa music, as well as a few classical pieces. I felt like a queen as I slowly descended the winding staircase to the strains of Pachelbel's _Canon in D_, which the musicians played as well as any string quartet.

Everyone watched as I made my entrance. Stephanie stood next to Dawson, who stood next to Father Brady at the base of the stairs. My lovely future granddaughter-in-law smiled up at me with radiant joy. Teresa stood on the other side of the staircase, her eyes bright with happy tears. Ricardo was behind her, standing sullenly amidst his children and their spouses, but I refused to make eye contact with him. Indeed, I knew all eyes were on me as I made my way down to the foyer, but I really had eyes only for my handsome novio.

My mind was in a constant state of bliss, which made everything seem to go very quickly. After the ceremony, all of our guests – except Ricardo, because he had to go to _Rosa's_ – congratulated us and then joined us for a magnificent celebratory meal in our immense dining room. In the spirit of compromise, Dawson convinced me to allow our caterers to serve a combination of Cuban and non-Cuban dishes. We started out with a very traditional Cuban _crema de malanga_ soup, an island cousin to cream of potato soup. Then we left the island cuisine behind us and enjoyed crisp garden salads tossed with a tangy raspberry-walnut vinaigrette, bacon-wrapped filet mignon and steamed Maine lobster tails, and a colorful medley of seasoned vegetables. We also enjoyed a light strawberry sorbet after the meal, before we cut the wedding cake.

The champagne flowed freely and everyone seemed to enjoy the meal. Of course, Ricardo's absence helped. I am certain he would have critiqued every bit of the fabulous meal only because he had had no part in planning or preparing it.

Since I am not supposed to understand English, Teresa and Stephanie collaborated on the toasts, with Teresa translating the English into Spanish for me. As the "Best Man," Stephanie gave us a lovely tribute and wished us a long and happy partnership. Likewise, Teresa honored us with an emotional and heartfelt toast. Then Dawson and I thanked everyone for coming before we cut the cake and invited them to join us on the dance floor. It was such fun! Nevertheless, when the party was over, I was ecstatic to finally be alone with my new husband – the man I truly loved.

_Dawson's POV_

I am the happiest man in the world! Today, I married the woman who has captivated my thoughts and enlivened both my days and my nights ever since she strolled into my company headquarters and settled into my life. Before Rosa, I was merely going through the motions of everyday living. To be fair, the discovery of and the partnership with the vibrant and creative force of Stephanie Plum had already brightened my days considerably. But Rosa … ah, my dear sweet Rosa, made my nights unforgettable! Neither of us will ever be lonely again.

Interestingly, Rosa and I had similar experiences with our first spouses. Her Alejandro was completely engrossed in his restaurant business and my Maggie was the creative force behind our company's designs. The main difference between our marriages was children. According to Rosa, after she gave birth to her sons, her husband continued to focus on his business, and she felt almost as though _Rosa's_ was Alejandro's real wife and she was only his mistress. Maggie and I never had any children, so we poured our love into our lingerie business together. If we had been able to have children, I believe it would have been very difficult for Maggie to pull herself away from all her design work and raise them.

I'm very fortunate now to have Stephanie as my business partner and Rosa as my life partner. This is a very good thing. In the future, after Rosa's grandson returns from his military mission, I know both Stephanie and I will be able to send each other home to our respective spouses. Although I seriously doubt either of us will have any issues with misplaced lifestyle priorities, neither of us will allow our business to interfere with our marriages.

I was pondering all these things a few hours before the wedding ceremony when Rosa's son and daughter-in-law arrived at the house. After ushering Teresa upstairs to help Rosa with her final preparations, Ricardo and I stood face to face in the large open foyer and studied each other. I do not know what he saw when he looked at me, but what I saw when I looked at him was a defeated and defiant man. Obviously, he still didn't trust me and he wasn't pleased I was marrying his mother. I decided it was time for us to clear the air.

"Thank you for coming today," I said, "I know it means a lot to your mother."

Ricardo's mouth tightened and he replied coldly, "Please, Mr. Books, let us not have any pretenses between us. My wife told me it was _you_ who convinced my mother to allow my presence here today, so it is _I_ who owe you thanks."

I held in a sigh and said, "Yes, well, I believe in family harmony. And please call me Dawson."

"Hmph," he snorted. "What would _you_ know about the sacred bond between a parent and child, _Mr. Books_? I have done my research on you. Your father was a well-respected businessman on Madison Avenue, but you chose not to follow in his footsteps. No, you chose to design women's … ah, unmentionables. And it is my understanding that you and your first wife had no children. I do not know how you wormed your way into my mother's life, but you cannot possibly comprehend the damage you have done to our relationship, can you?"

I pursed my lips and counted to ten in my mind before answering, "Actually, I believe I _can_ and do understand much more than you give me credit for."

"I seriously doubt that," he scoffed.

"Please come into my library and allow me to explain," I said and then I led him there without waiting for his acquiescence. "I don't know if your research uncovered this, but my family is originally from Great Britain." I closed the library's French doors behind us.

"One of the articles I read mentioned that fact," he said as we each sat down in large leather chairs.

Leaning forward, I continued, "Many generations of my forebears were accountants – bookkeepers – thus, the name 'Books.' Members of my extended family served several of the great lords and other members of the peerage all the way through the end of the nineteenth century, when my great-grandfather left London to become a tailor in New York City."

"A tailor?" Ricardo asked. "That's quite a career change."

I smiled. "Indeed. But my great-grandfather despised keeping books. He hated having ink-stained fingers and he loved the feel of cloth between his hands. He desperately wanted to be a tailor and he sought an apprenticeship with one of the finest men's shops in the country. He became highly proficient as a tailor and when the company expanded to America, he accepted the offer to move across the ocean. Of course, none of this went over well with his father."

"Of course," agreed Ricardo, waving his hand in the air for emphasis. "A man has to be disappointed when his own son does not want to follow in his footsteps. Especially when there is so much tradition involved."

"Tradition or not, it helped that an American heiress fell in love with my great-grandfather shortly after he arrived in New York," I said. "His son, my grandfather, also became a tailor and although he rose to prominence during the Great War, he never was able to establish his own design house. His son, my father, _didn't_ want to be a tailor. Oddly enough, he loved numbers, so he reverted to the older family tradition and became what today would be considered the Chief Financial Officer at a major advertising agency on Madison Avenue. My sister and I, however, preferred to accompany our grandfather to work, where we both decided to follow in _his_ footsteps instead of our father's. As you may know, my sister is now a world-famous interior designer and I established Books Designs over forty years ago."

"Yes, I did read about that," he said. "Perhaps if you had become an interior designer, like your sister, or even a designer of menswear instead of ladies underwear, things would be different."

"Most definitely different," I agreed. "If I had done anything else with my life, I wouldn't have been able to offer Stephanie Plum a partnership with my company, which means we never would have designed the _Babe!_ lingerie line, which means we wouldn't have launched an advertising campaign or searched for models, which means it probably would have taken me a lot longer to meet your mother. And I promise you, Ricardo, I _would_ have met your mother sooner or later. We were made for each other."

Ricardo rose out of his chair and growled, "My mother loved my father, may he rest in peace. You have no right to-"

I rose out of my chair and cut him off. "I have _every_ right to meet and fall in love with such a beautiful and vibrant woman as Rosa!"

"She is _my_ mother!" Ricardo raised his voice. "She is old and frail and it is my responsibility as a good son to take care of her in her golden years. You should have left her alone!"

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" I exclaimed as I fought to stay in control of my temper. "Rosa is the woman I love and she is neither old nor frail! Please refrain from spouting such nonsense in my home. Dear Lord! I'm so glad Rosa can't hear you right now."

"I should have taken my mother home long before now," he growled. "You have dishonored her by living here in sin with her. And to add insult to injury, you have taken photographs of a questionable nature of her and published them for all the world to see."

I sighed and shook my head in disbelief. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Rosa and I are mature adults. We have long since passed the age of consent. Besides, this is America, son. Remember, 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness'? Well, pursuing happiness is exactly what Rosa and I intend to do with the remaining days of our lives, however long they may be. And as for questionable photographs, let me show you something."

Then I led Ricardo out of the library and back to the foyer, where the musicians were beginning to set up. I showed him the set of four black and white photographs I had taken and recently had hung on the wall behind the piano. They all were of Rosa in various poses and I had placed each photo in a simple black frame. In the first frame, Rosa was against a white background, wearing her hair up in an elegant chignon, and she had placed one of her hands along her face. The next photo had a black background and Rosa's hair was flowing free, away from her face. In the third frame, she was wearing one of my black fedoras and one of my plain white dress shirts. The final photo showed a very sultry-looking Rosa, holding a strand of pearls next to her face. We had had such fun together when I took each of the photos.

I watched Ricardo as he studied each photo intensely, and I hoped he could see the evidence of the love I have for Rosa. It seemed to me that he gazed at the last photo – my personal favorite – for the longest time. He said nothing as the musicians worked around him, setting up their instruments and microphones and other equipment. Finally, he turned to me and told me he needed some fresh air. Then he walked to the front door, opened it and stepped out onto the porch. I decided not to follow him.

Later, when all of Rosa's grandchildren and their spouses had arrived and gathered at the foot of the grand staircase, I noticed a somber-looking Ricardo standing near the back of the small crowd. I knew he wouldn't be staying for the small reception afterward, so I wouldn't have another opportunity to speak with him until Rosa and I returned from our honeymoon. Still, I resented his dour demeanor. Deciding not to dwell on his negativity, I focused instead on the wondrous vision my lovely bride made as she descended the staircase when it was time for the ceremony. The joy on Rosa's face was satisfaction enough and, I'm not ashamed to say, I didn't think about Ricardo and his bad attitude for the rest of the night.

_Ricardo's POV_

_¡Dios mio!_ Today I am a broken man and no one cares about my feelings – not my wife, not my children and certainly not my mother or that man she is marrying. All week long before the ceremony, Teresa, Celia and Pilar admonished me to behave at the wedding. Alejandro kept giving me looks of concern, but I could tell the concern was not for me. He feared I would do something to embarrass his mother or grandmother. I wanted to shake all of them out of their enchantment. It is obvious they all have fallen under some nefarious spell to think for even a minute that this marriage between my mother and Mr. Books is a good thing.

At least, that is what I thought before I saw the incredible photographic portraits of my mother, which were hanging in the foyer of Mr. Books' palatial home. After I took Teresa to the incredibly lavish house for her to complete her duties as Matron of Honor to my mother, the annoying man invited me into his library for a little discussion. He told me about his family's humble origins and the many times the men in his family turned away from their father's traditions. I suppose he was trying to make a point, but I was not impressed. Honestly, I am grateful he has been successful enough to be able to offer employment to Estefania, but I do not see how a man who makes a living designing women's underwear can have any pride at all.

When I told Mr. Books I was not pleased with the scandalous photographs his company had taken of my mother, he escorted me back to the foyer and proudly showed me four black and white portraits of my mother I had never seen before. The first two of the black-framed photos were very nice. In the first frame, Mama was posing against a white background, wearing her hair up in the way that was most familiar to me. Her classical elegance was quite evident. The next photo had a black background and Mama's hair was flowing free, away from her face. Her pose was shockingly glamorous, as it was in her infamous _Babe!_ poster, but this photo showed her beauty in a way that anyone could appreciate.

The other two photos made my blood run cold with shock and then hot with fury. In the third frame, my mother was wearing a man's black hat and what looked like a man's white dress shirt. She looked happy and playful and … _flirtatious_. It was beyond scandalous! But the final photo proved to me what I did not want to admit – my Mama was in love with the man behind the camera lens and he obviously loved her in return. She was holding a _very_ familiar strand of pearls next to her face – pearls my own dear Papa had given to her a long time ago. Her pose reminded me of the portrait of Mama in her fur coat, but with one very important difference. In the old photo in the scrapbook I had seen so recently, Mama's face looked regal, elegant and serene. But her face in this current portrait was the face of a well-loved woman. That realization actually took my breath away – like a punch to the solar plexus.

Suddenly, I had to escape to the front porch. I needed to feel the cold fresh air against my face and catch my breath before the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes embarrassed me. There was no way I was going to disgrace myself in front of Mr. Books! I am not naïve. Anyone who saw those photographs on the wall would know the full extent of my mother's relationship with her … her _lover_. _Oh, Dios mio!_ How could Mama betray Papa so completely? How could she betray _me_? It felt as though my life, my family, my world was crumbling before my eyes and I wanted to howl with frustration. Unfortunately, that was when my children began to arrive.

When I accompanied my children and their spouses back inside, the musical ensemble was playing a very soothing classical piece and chairs were set up in the foyer for everyone to sit down after an attendant took their coats and wraps. As soon as we all were in our places, the ceremony began. It took every shred of self-control I possessed to not disrupt the union of my Mama and Mr. Books. In fact, Father Brady never even asked the traditional question about anyone objecting to the union of the couple. Everything went so quickly; before I knew it, the priest was introducing the new Mr. and Mrs. Dawson Horatio Books.

Fortunately, I did not have to stay for the dinner reception, because I had to go to work. Saturday is usually busy and Valentine's Day is one of our busiest days of the year. The reservations book was completely filled and I knew I needed to be back at _Rosa's_ before the dinner rush began. Unfortunately, I could not leave until I congratulated the newly-married couple. The last thing I wanted to do was to go through the receiving line with my children. Memories of Teresa and Father Brady's threats and admonishments were the only things that kept me in line. In order to appease my wife and my priest, I graciously hugged my mother and shook the hand of her new husband before I made my hasty exit. I had more important things to do.

My mind was numb as I drove back into Newark. It was gratifying to enter _Rosa's_ and see the cooks and wait staff carrying out their duties as expected. I was fine until I came face-to-face with the iconic portrait of my mother, which hung in the foyer of the restaurant. Hot tears stung my eyes and my throat felt tight. I could not get the images of Mr. Books' photo portraits of my mother out of my head, especially the one in which she was holding the strand of pearls next to her face and she looked so… satisfied. Ugh! There was no doubt the man truly cared for Mama and she obviously thought she loved him in return, but I did not think their hasty marriage would last. Alas, there was nothing I could do about it – for now.

_Teresa's POV_

"How are you today, Mama Rosa? Are you nervous? What do you need me to do for you?" I asked my mother-in-law when I entered her dressing room to assist her before the wedding ceremony.

She laughed and shook her head at me. "Slow down, querida, and take a deep breath. I am fine, really. Wonderful, in fact. No, I am not nervous. Excited, yes – nervous, no. And all I need for you to do is be here and support me at this happy time."

I let out my breath in a whoosh and chuckled. "I guess I'm nervous enough for both of us."

"Is Ricardo here?" she asked. Her eyes met mine in the mirror as she placed her sparkly diamond-and-pearl earrings into each earlobe. Her hair was perfectly coiffed in a flattering style and she already had on her fuchsia pink jacket/blouse and long black skirt. There truly wasn't much I could do for her.

"Yes, he's here," I replied. "At least in body, if not in spirit. I think Ricardo believes if he ignores the events of today, he can fantasize this never happened. And he still plans to leave immediately after the ceremony, even though I begged him to reconsider. God forbid that either Ricardo or Alex be absent from _Rosa's_ on Valentine's Day. You know how your son feels about being away from the restaurant on special nights such as this. I just wish he could see the romance unfolding in front of his face and accept how happy you and your novio are together."

Her smile was wistful as she said, "I do, too, mija. But these things take time. We must keep Ricardo in our prayers."

I nodded. "Prayer definitely works. The proof is evident in the way Ricardo has changed so much at home. It's incredible, but Ricardo is still very helpful around the house on his days off and with the grandchildren when they come over. He's attentive to my needs and I rarely have to remind him of the way I like things to be done. I've never been treated so well in all the years of our marriage."

"That is very good," she said and her smile was bright this time. "The changes were long overdue and I am glad you are happy together again. I hold on to the hope that my son will extend his mercy and his blessings to Dawson and me someday."

Before I knew it, it was time for me to descend the grand staircase down to the foyer to begin the ceremony. I noticed the smiles on the faces of all my family, as well as Stephanie and Dawson and his other guests. Everyone seemed to be so happy for the bride and groom, except my grumpy husband. His face was a stony mask and I wanted to shake him out of his stubbornness. Instead, I only smiled wider to make up for Ricardo's scowl, especially when Rosa descended the stairs.

After the brief, but poignant wedding ceremony, Dawson and Rosa – the new Mr. and Mrs. Books – greeted everyone with hugs and kisses as they passed through the short receiving line. Naturally, Ricardo was the last person to offer his congratulations and he barely accomplished that. I was so disappointed in his attitude.

"Oh, Mama Rosa, I'm sorry Ricardo is leaving so abruptly," I whispered as I watched my husband disappear out through the front door of Dawson Books' magnificent home.

She patted my hand and softly replied, "It is all right, mija. I feel fortunate we were able to get through the entire ceremony without my son throwing a royal fit. We both know it was a close thing."

I could only shake my head in disappointment. "I had hoped … well, you know. It would have been nice if he could have accepted your union and stayed here to celebrate with the rest of us."

"That was _not_ going to happen today, Teresa, and you should know better than to push for progress too quickly." Rosa fixed me with a knowing stare before she and Dawson led us all into their enormous dining room.

Of course, I knew she was right, but a woman could hope, couldn't she?

_Stephanie's POV_

Today was one of the best days of my life! My friend and business partner, Dawson Books, married my future grandmother-in-law, Rosa Mañoso, in one of the simplest, yet most lovely ceremonies I've ever witnessed. It was such an amazing contrast to my friend Stella's wedding. Of course, Stella not only had to contend with melding together her Jewish traditions and her new husband's Catholic traditions, but she also had to deal with several sets of upset relatives. Rosa and Dawson share the same simple faith and there was only one upset relative – Ricardo.

I feel so sad for Ricardo. It's as though he absolutely refuses to see how happy Dawson and Rosa are when they're together. They make a wonderful couple and Ricardo is really missing out on a great relationship. If he'd just give Dawson more than a brief moment of his time, I'm sure he would like him very much. Unfortunately, Carlos' stubborn father still has a long way to go to rid himself of his sinful pride. I was sort of glad, though, when Ricardo departed from Dawson and Rosa's house without making a big, ugly scene. I can only hope to achieve the same miracle with my mother by the time my own wedding happens.

The reception was fabulous, with food to die for. Alex is so talented with all kinds of food! And I told him so, too. It was fun to watch him blush. Teresa and I made the traditional celebratory toasts, and I almost felt silly as she translated my words for Rosa. I had to focus on the happy groom, because I knew I would burst out laughing if I made eye contact with the supposedly-non-English-speaking bride. After we all had stuffed ourselves with wedding cake, the dancing began. It was such a blast! The only way it could have been more perfect was if Carlos had been able to be there.

"How are you holding up?" Mateo asked me while we danced to a lively salsa tune.

"Fine," I lied as I tried to keep up with his fancy footwork. Mateo was almost as good a dancer as Carlos.

"You're lying," he declared as he twirled me behind him.

"How can you tell?" I asked when he brought me back around to his front before twirling me outward again.

Mateo laughed and said, "It _is_ Valentine's Day and I know you're missing your man, especially after I dropped off his gifts at your place this morning. Also, I noticed you've already attached the heart and key charms to your bracelet."

My free hand automatically rubbed over my charm bracelet and I allowed my thoughts to drift back to that morning. I had barely finished my first cup of coffee when the florist delivered one dozen pretty vases and each vase contained twelve perfect red roses. As soon as I found a place for each bunch of roses, the bakery delivered a decadent heart-shaped chocolate cheesecake. I had a piece of it for breakfast. Cheese has calcium and protein, which are good for me, right? Blackie shamelessly begged for some of my cake, but I explained to him that he couldn't have any chocolate. I tried to appease him by taking him on a long walk, and when we returned, Mateo was waiting for us.

"All I can say is Carlos puts the rest of us men to shame," Mateo admitted when he placed the packages on the coffee table in my living room and he saw all of the roses. "Now I'll have to go out and buy more flowers for Lucia. And this is after I've already given her a diamond pendant necklace and matching earrings."

"Do you think she'd like a piece of this awesome cake?" I gestured to the kitchen counter where the incredible dessert sat there, tempting me again.

Mateo chuckled. "Oh yeah, that would go over like a lead balloon. You know very well I can't bring home a part of some other woman's gift. Lucia would kick my ass."

"Sorry," I shrugged sheepishly. "You're right. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Besides," he continued, "I'm sure we're going to have plenty of wedding cake this afternoon at Abuela Rosa's wedding."

I clapped my hands over my mouth and then exclaimed, "Omigod! I totally forgot about the wedding cake. I guess I should try to resist having any more of _my_ cake for the rest of the day."

"Good luck with that." Mateo looked at me skeptically. "Well, I'd better get going. I'll see you later." And then he left me alone to open my Valentine's Day gifts.

My thoughts returned to the wedding reception when the song ended and Mateo escorted me back to his table, where Lucia was waiting for us.

I smiled at her and said, "Thank you for letting me borrow your husband for a spin around the dance floor."

"You're more than welcome, Stephanie," Lucia returned my smile. "But I do require a certain payment for the favor." Then she leaned in close to my ear and said, "You have to show me what your man gave you for Valentine's Day. I know Mateo made another special delivery this morning."

"Oh, that's easy," I grinned and held out my arm so she could examine the newest additions to my charm bracelet. Her long fingers brushed over the inscription on the gold heart charm.

"Te amo, siempre y para siempre," she read aloud, her voice barely a whisper. "I love you, always and forever. That is so beautiful!"

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

Lucia's eyes were damp when she looked into my eyes. "And let me guess, this key goes with it as the key to his heart, right?" she asked.

I nodded and tried to stop my own tears.

At that moment, Dawson appeared at my side and asked for the next dance, which was a tango. Lucia happily waved me away. Then she and Mateo joined us on the dance floor; Rosa was already in Alex's capable arms. Dawson was an expert dancer. All I had to do was follow his lead and I knew we would look almost as good as professional dancers.

"Are you having fun, Stephanie?" my partner asked me without missing a step.

"Absolutely!" I answered, trying not to break my concentration. "Why do you ask?"

"Rosa thought she noticed a troubled look on your face a moment ago, so she sent me over to check on you," he admitted rather sheepishly.

"Oh, that," I shrugged. "I was just showing off my charm bracelet to Mateo's wife and, naturally, my thoughts went directly to the giver of all my best gifts." We always had to be careful not to mention Carlos' name whenever his sisters were nearby.

"Ah, that explains the almost-tears," Dawson nodded.

I peeked around Dawson's shoulder and saw Rosa raise an eyebrow at me. I smiled back at her reassuringly before Alex spun her in a different direction. Sometimes, it was good to know there were so many "guardian angels" around me. I'm not sure how my life would be right now if I didn't have Dawson and Rosa, as well as Mateo and Carlos' friends, looking out for my welfare.

"So … Dawson, have you told Rosa where you're taking her on your honeymoon?" I asked after he twirled me close to his side and dipped me playfully.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I have," he replied, his eyes twinkling with pleasure. "I whispered it to her right before we shared our first bite of the wedding cake."

"Ah," I nodded as he returned us to an upright dancing position. "That explains the look of total surprise on her face when you fed the cake to her."

He chuckled and said, "I informed my lovely wife that she is now my personal goddess, and as such, I owe it to her to take her to a private Greek island where I may worship her properly for the next two weeks."

"Whoa! That's so romantic – and hot!" I exclaimed. "I'm impressed, Dawson, really. And maybe even a little jealous."

Dawson patted my shoulder reassuringly. "Your turn will come, Stephanie. And I'm fairly certain you and your young man will be able to generate more romance and heat than all of the couples in this room combined."

I blushed as I remembered the way Carlos and I had spent most of our time together so far. And knowing what I knew about my Superman's supernatural abilities in bed and everywhere else, I had to agree with Dawson.

Still, here it was – Valentine's Day – and I was not with my lover. _Oh, Carlos! This is so unfair! We should be wrapped up in each other's arms, instead of thousands of miles apart. I miss you so much! _A wave of loneliness washed over me and I fought hard to maintain my composure. After the song ended and we returned to our table, Rosa returned to Dawson's side and he gave her a long, sensuous kiss. When I looked away, I saw Lucia snuggling against Mateo's chest and my heart ached with another twinge of jealousy. I sighed. Only 416 more days until I could have what they have, too.

_Carlos's POV_

I had a very interesting day today. Back in my real world, it was Valentine's Day. I smiled when I thought about the dozens of roses my Babe would receive, as well as another Dipaolo Bros. dessert. Also, Mateo would deliver another charm and letter to Stephanie. God, I wished I could be with her tonight, especially when she read my letter. I cleared my mind until I was able to remember every word of it.

_My dearest Babe,_

_Happy Valentine's Day! Today is a special day for lovers all over the world and I envy everyone out there who's able to be together with the one they love the most. My arms ache to hold you close and never let you go. If I was with you right now, I would take you in my arms and dance with you to our special song. Remember these specific words, Querida, because they will help bond us together always: _

_I don't want any night to go by_

_Without you by my side_

_I just want all my days_

_Spent being next to you_

_Lived for just loving you_

_And baby, oh by the way_

_Could I hold you for a lifetime?_

_Could I look into your eyes?_

_Could I have this night to share this night together?_

_Could I hold you close beside me?_

_Could I hold you for all time?_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever?_

_Could I could I have this kiss forever, forever?_

_If I could have my way, our forever would have begun already. You know you hold the key to my heart. In fact, you hold my entire heart. I want the special charms Mateo delivered to you today to remind you that everything I possess and everything I am belongs to you, Babe – now and forever. _

_As always, I am counting the days until we can begin our new life together._

_Te amo, Stephanie, siempre y para siempre,_

_Carlos_

In my mind, I still could hear Whitney Houston and Enrique Iglesias singing the hauntingly beautiful words of _"Can I Have This Dance Forever?"_ and I had to fight against feeling sorry for myself. This was no time to get all soft and mushy, but as soon I pushed my thoughts about my Babe back into the deeper recesses of my consciousness, I began to think about my Abuela Rosa. Honestly, Valentine's Day is not a time when most men have thoughts about their grandmothers. I could only hope and pray that everything was okay with her. Time would tell. I rolled over and willed my subconscious to bring me good dreams of Stephanie.

**TBC**


	27. Chapter 27 Chapter 111

**CHAPTER 111**

_Stephanie's POV_

March definitely came roaring in like a lion today. It was so windy and rainy this morning, I had to drag Blackie outside for his walk. Neither of us wanted to be out in such foul weather, but we had no choice. Ever since he moved in with me, my father has been helping out by taking Blackie on his first walk of the day. Unfortunately for me, Dad had an unusually early fare to pick up and take to the airport, so I had no choice but to brave the elements. Even though I had bought the cutest little doggie raincoat on sale the previous week, my poor puppy still got soaked during our walk. Needless to say, I got soaked, too, and I was a teensy bit late getting into work.

By the flurry of activity I saw in the office, I could tell that Dawson came back to work today. Of course, I knew he and Rosa had returned last night from their two-week honeymoon on a private Greek island. I was so proud of myself for not having to call my boss at all during his time away. When he sauntered into my office, I realized I'd never seen anyone who seemed to be so content with his life. He looked tanned and relaxed and completely satisfied with his life as a newlywed.

"That grin should be illegal," I said as Dawson sat down in the chair in front of my desk.

His grin grew wider and he replied, "What can I say? I'm a happy man. No, I am beyond ecstatic! I'm married to the most incredible woman. I've just experienced the best two weeks of my life. And upon my return, I've discovered my amazingly clever business partner has made us a ton of money, both here in the States and in Europe. Congratulations, Stephanie, I just saw last week's report and I am quite pleased."

"Aww, shucks, Dawson. Now you've made me blush," I joked.

"In that case, I don't suppose your delicate sensibilities would be able to withstand a little perusal through some photographs of my time in Greece." He glanced nonchalantly at his fingernails, knowing full well he had my complete attention.

"What's a bit of color in my cheeks?" I said. "Where are the pictures?"

He threw his head back and laughed heartily. "Stephanie, my dear, you are such a delight!" Then he placed a small vinyl photo holder on my desk and urged me to look through it.

"Omigod!" I gasped as I flipped through picture after picture of gorgeous seaside vistas. "I knew the Greek isles had a reputation for stunning views of white buildings against crystal clear, cerulean waters, but this is just beyond my wildest imagination. And trust me; I have a pretty wild imagination."

Dawson chuckled and said, "Well, I owe you a great debt. That negligee ensemble you designed for Rosa was absolutely stunning. In fact, I've already dictated the memo to put it into mass production immediately." Then his smile became sly and he lowered his voice as he pulled something out of the interior pocket of his suit jacket. "Here are a couple of photos from my, er, shall we say 'private collection.' Rosa probably would kill me if she knew I had showed these to anyone, but I simply _must_ show you how the outfits looked on her. This – me showing you these particular photos – never happened. Understand?"

I nodded as I sat mesmerized by what I saw in the two photographs. In the first one, Rosa was stretched out on a marble floor at twilight, wearing a black nightgown from our 'classic' line. She looked elegant and relaxed against the backdrop of white columns in front of the open water. The impact of the second photo nearly knocked me out of my chair. There was Rosa, standing tall in all her glory against a backdrop of more ornately-carved white marble, wearing only the sheer white robe of the prototype negligee ensemble, a necklace and silver sandals. With her white hair flowing out in the breeze, she looked like a Greek goddess.

In answer to my stunned silence, Dawson said, "As you can see, my lovely wife makes everything she wears look absolutely fabulous. Personally, I think she's the perfect _Babe!_ model, but I might be slightly biased."

"I'd give anything to be able to look this good when I'm Rosa's age," I whispered reverently. "Jeez, I wish I looked that awesome now. Omigod, Dawson, does Rosa even realize how gorgeous she is?"

"No, I don't believe she does," he replied. "At least, not yet. But I've already told her how stunningly beautiful she is a thousand times and I'll keep telling her that until I draw my final breath. I truly am the most blessed man on the face of the earth."

"No kidding!" I exclaimed, feeling jealous on behalf of my own lucky man, Carlos.

Dawson scooped up the photos of Rosa and put them back in his pocket. Then he retrieved the photo album that was still lying in front of me and asked about a few details he'd seen in the weekly reports. We continued to talk about business matters for the better part of an hour and then he asked about my family. He knew that Valerie was doing great with the online sales, but he wanted to know about everyone else.

"Well," I began, "To tell the truth, things are still stressful within the Plum household. As you might remember, my dad got fed up with my mother's constant meddling in Val's life, as well as my life, and when she wouldn't heed his ultimatum to stop, he moved out. "

"That was right before my wedding. Is he still living with you?" Dawson asked.

"Yeah, he is," I said with a quick nod. "Actually, it's not so bad. Dad and I have become closer than ever, and I'm almost afraid of what will happen to Blackie when my parents finally reconcile. Since my dad's been living with me, he and my dog have become very attached to each other."

"Is a reconciliation between your parents in the works, then?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It's kinda hard to tell. All I know is my mother goes to Mass every day and my father has been talking to their parish priest on a regular basis, but they haven't been attending any counseling sessions together. I keep hoping Mom will invite Dad over for dinner real soon and then seduce him back home. She always was a great cook. We'll just have to wait and see what happens."

Dawson tilted his head to one side and said, "From your tone of voice, it seems as though you aren't very hopeful."

"Oh, I have hope, alright," I assured him. "I just don't want my mother's ridiculous attitudes to ruin her marriage forever. Even after everything she's done so far, my father still … well, he has very deep feelings for her."

"There is an old proverb with which my grandmother would chastise my mother, especially when my parents were having disagreements," Dawson said. "I think it might even be from the Bible. 'Every wise woman builds her house, but the foolish woman pulls hers down with her own hands.' Or something like that. It's been a long time since I've thought about such things."

"Well, it seems as though my mother has become quite the 'wrecking ball' lately." Shaking my head, I continued, "I just don't think she gets it, you know. And I can guarantee my Grandma Mazur isn't quoting such sound advice to my mother right now. Her comments are more along the lines of 'You know you aren't getting any younger, Ellen. You'd better make up with Frank before he takes up with some young bimbo.' I swear, Grandma means well, but she's not helpful at all. Did _your_ parents fight a lot?"

"Fight? Oh, hardly," Dawson said. "But their disagreements brought about something akin to the Cold War to our household. Neither of them would speak to each other for days at a time. Instead, they'd use my sister and me as envoys between them. I'm sure that's where Catherine and I learned the fine art of negotiation. Speaking of sisters, how is Valerie doing?"

"Very well, as I'm sure you've read about in the weekly reports," I said. "Val absolutely _loves_ working on the Internet catalog orders from her home and she's so good at it. I'm really proud of her. The girls are happy to have their mom around when they leave for school and when they come home. And her divorce is coming along quite nicely; perhaps she'll be totally free of Steve the Loser by the end of April. You know Alberto the IT guy? Well, he's been extremely nice to Val – helping her get set up and fixing any glitches with her Internet connection. She likes him, too, but she still sees herself as married. I think Alberto's just waiting for Val's divorce to be final before he makes a real move on her. He's such a nice man and my father actually likes him, too. It helps that he's Italian, and, get this, his Uncle Sal belongs to the same Lodge as my dad. Small world, huh?"

Dawson smiled at my ramblings and said, "It's a small world indeed."

I smiled back at him and asked, "And how is _your_ sister? Have you heard from her since you got back?"

"She's fine. Thank you for asking," he replied. "Catherine made some very interesting contacts and she even did a little research for us while she was in Japan. I believe you and I shall expand our next _Babe!_ campaign into the Asian market very soon. In fact, that's another thing I wanted to talk about with you today. How would you like to go to Tokyo in the next week or two? We really should strike while the iron is hot, so to speak."

"What? Omigod!" I exclaimed. "_Japan_? Are you kidding me? Of course I'll go! Can I take someone with me this time?" I was already thinking of the great time Tina and I could have in Tokyo.

"Absolutely!" Dawson agreed. "You'll need to take someone from the marketing staff anyway. And my sister gave me the names of several very good contacts, as well as a few competent translators, to assist you while you're over there." Then he proceeded to tell me more of the details. "I figure you'll probably be gone for a week or two, but I'm sure I can handle things back here while you're away. Do you know if any of your friends on our staff have current passports?"

"Yes, most of them do now. In fact, everyone on our marketing team sent in their paperwork when I was getting ready for the London trip, because we realized we needed to be ready to travel. Even if they had wanted to, none of them could have come with me to Europe because they didn't have passports. And you know, Melinda speaks several languages, including some Japanese. The idiots at E.E. Martin never utilized our full capabilities, but I always knew Melinda's linguistic prowess would come in handy someday."

"Ah, Stephanie! Thinking ahead, as always," Dawson beamed. "That's one of the things I appreciate about you the most."

I blushed again and said, "What can I say? It's all in a day's work."

Dawson stood up, stretched, and shook his head vigorously. "Ugh! I'm still jet-lagged. I'm going to walk around for a while and chat with a few other folks. When I get back to my desk, I'll send you the entire file I have of Catherine's recommendations. We can talk about the detailed plans for your Tokyo trip during tomorrow morning's staff meeting, alright?"

"Absolutely!" I agreed and I watched him saunter out of my office and down the hallway. Then I stood up and did a little "happy dance" around my desk. Tina came in with our morning round of coffee while I was in the middle of a twirl and she laughed aloud.

"What's got you all happy on such a crappy day like this?" she asked as she set my mug on its coaster. "I mean, seriously, my umbrella got caught in the wind this morning and it's totally ruined. Thank goodness I have a spare here at the office."

"Dawson's back!" I exclaimed. "And guess what?"

"He brought us back some real Greek baklava?" Tina asked excitedly.

"No," I shook my head. "It's something much, much better than that."

"Better than baklava? Stevie, are you feeling okay? There's hardly any gift you like better than sweets," she said. "You'd best tell me now; I'll never be able to guess."

"We're expanding the _Babe!_ line into the Asian market!" I squealed. "We're going to Japan – Tokyo!"

"_We_?" Tina gasped. "As in you and me – we?"

I nodded. "And probably Melinda, too, since she actually speaks Japanese, as well as Amanda, since she speaks 'computer geek.' Omigod! This is going to be so great!"

Tina plunked down onto one of the chairs, dazed by the news. Then she bounced right up again, ran around my desk and hugged me tight. "Omigod! Omigod! Omigod! Stevie, I can't believe it! We're actually going to Tokyo?!"

"Believe it, girlfriend," I grinned. "Dawson said his sister – you know, Catherine, the interior decorator who's married to the world-famous architect? Remember? She couldn't make it to the wedding because she and her husband were attending some major conference in Tokyo at the time. Well, it turns out she made some contacts on our company's behalf, so Dawson is sending us over to get things started in the Asian market. It's just incredible!"

Then we hugged again and did one more rendition of a happy dance before settling down to work.

_Lester's POV_

"Aw, hell no, man!" I yelled and beat my fists against the dashboard of our very plain rental car. "We did _not_ just drive all the way up here for this shit!"

Tank just looked at me with an implied 'Are you done yet?' look on his face. I swear, the man is made of stone and steel. I've known him for practically my entire military career and other than my home-boy, Carlos, there's no one I'd rather have watching my back. Like Carlos, Tank rarely loses his cool, even when everything around us goes all to hell. And right now, it looked like we were knee-deep in a particular kind of hell.

We had just returned to our car, which was located a block away from the parking lot of a very fancy restaurant in downtown Boston, Massachusetts. We had followed our prime suspect, Doctor Michael Maliki, all the way from Washington, D.C., because he had been acting very secretive lately. He had received several short, suspicious and untraceable phone calls during the previous week and he showed signs of living a double life. Unfortunately, it wasn't the kind of double life we'd _thought_ he was leading.

Back in D.C., "Dr. M&M," as we referred to him, was married with three kids. Here in Boston, after we witnessed him greeting his dinner companion with a long, steamy kiss, we realized exactly what kind of double life the scientist was living. His date was a tall, extremely buff-looking blond _man_. In fact, all of the diners at the restaurant were male and they all seemed to be on dates with each other. By all appearances, Tank and I could have fit right in, except we weren't dressed appropriately, so the snooty guy at the entrance turned us away. But not before he felt compelled to pull me to the side and whisper something in my ear.

"Listen, sweetie, you're very cute, and we all know that blondes do have more fun, but that hairpiece just _isn't_ working for you," he said. "Go pull yourself together. Put on a suit, lose the wig _and_ the big guy, and I promise I'll have a _very_ good table waiting for you when you come back." Then he winked at me before he returned to his station.

Tank had to hold me back and drag me to our car to keep me from causing a scene. The last thing we needed was for our suspect to notice two semi-familiar faces from his office building up here in Boston. I didn't realize how much effort Tank was putting into not laughing until we were safely locked inside our car and he nearly burst my eardrums with his loud guffaws.

"It's not funny!" I roared, snatching the mullet wig off my head and slapping it against the dashboard. "I hate this thing!"

"Hey, you'd better be careful, Santos," Tank choked out between his laughter. "Uncle Sam paid good money for that disguise. It's gotta last at least another week or two."

"Up yours," I grumbled. Then I sighed and put the wig back on my shorn head. I could hardly wait to grow my own hair out again when this assignment was finally over. Unfortunately, it looked as though we were far from finished.

"I'm gonna call this in to Colonel Striker," Tank said as he began to press the numbers on his cell phone.

"I don't understand," I said, trying not to sound too whiny. "We thought for sure Dr. M&M was our mole. Little Miss Tight-Ass is the only one left on our list and I just can't see her being involved in international espionage."

Dr. M&M was the leader of the team of three biomedical engineers on our short list of fifteen possible suspects. We had recently cleared the other male biomed, Herschel Baumgartner, from suspicion of having ties to any Islamic terrorist groups, primarily because the man was Jewish. To be fair, we dug just as deeply into his personal background and history as we did any of our other suspects, but there just wasn't anything even remotely dangerous about good ol' Herschel. The other biomed was a tightly-wound, mousey kind of woman named Mary Shamone. Nothing about her suggested she even knew how to talk to anyone who wasn't a fellow scientist. Damn! I did _not_ want to have to start looking at other candidates after putting so much effort into clearing the last thirteen names off of our list.

"Yessir. Roger that, sir. We'll see you tomorrow afternoon, sir," Tank finished his report and he closed his cell phone.

"Well?" I asked. "What did he say?"

A slight grin pulled at the corner of Tank's mouth again and he replied, "After the colonel stopped laughing his ass off, he said we should verify the identity and background of our suspect's friend, write up our report, get a good night's sleep and return to D.C. in time for our regular night shift tomorrow. In that order. He also agreed it's a damn shame Dr. M&M isn't our mole, but we've gotta keep digging."

We kept watch until Dr. M&M and his date, whom we had identified as an unmarried local businessman with absolutely no ties to any terrorist organizations, departed the restaurant. We followed them as they drove to an unassuming white clapboard house in the suburb of Medford. By surfing the Internet on our trusty, secure laptop and by digging into our _special_ resources, we discovered the two men had been high school classmates and then college roommates, as well, all right here in the Boston area. They had lived together in this same house until Maliki finished his PhD in molecular biology at MIT and moved to D.C., where he met and married his wife. Only, the guy who had stayed in Boston was openly gay. How could the wife not know? This was too weird for me. We finally stopped watching when they turned off all the lights in the house. Then we drove back toward Boston.

"What a clusterfuck! Do you think we should inform the good doctor's wife of her husband's, er, extracurricular activities? I mean, that whole scene could be dangerous, right?" I asked.

"Maybe," he said. "But we're not the morality police. Besides, with something like this, the wife might already be well aware of the situation."

I cringed at that thought.

Tank continued, "It's best if we just turn over our findings to Col. Striker and let the bureaucrats deal with it. Our job is to locate that damn mole."

I shook my head, "I know, I know. But it just doesn't seem right that Mary Shamone could be the Chameleon. Of all the people on our list, she's the one I'd never pick."

"That's exactly why we're gonna dig deeper when we get back to D.C.," Tank said. "There might be something in her background we missed. Look what we missed about Dr. Maliki."

"Yeah, you're right. But, Tank, Miss Shamone is soooo freakin' boring," I complained. "She's not even a PhD doctor. This would be much more fun if she was at least an interesting person."

Tank smirked, "You mean like Dr. M&M?"

Shuddering, I replied, "No. Not _that_ kind of interesting. Just forget I said anything. Can we find a hotel now?"

Tank was quiet. It was then that I noticed we were turning onto I-95 South, toward New York.

"Are we going where I think we're going?" I asked, and my heart rate began to quicken.

He nodded.

"Yeah, baby!" I cried out and punched him in the arm. "I love you, man!"

"Hey! None of that, now," Tank growled. "You already got a lady, but I'm counting on Miss Plum to introduce me to my own '_Babe_' tomorrow morning."

I sucked in air. "Whaddya mean, tomorrow morning? I thought we were headed to Jersey _tonight_."

Tank glanced at me as though I were a little child and said, "Santos, it's almost midnight. First off, we're gonna do as Col. Striker ordered. We're gonna write up our report and get a good night's sleep. Now, he didn't say anything about where we should get that good night's sleep and he didn't tell us what to do with our morning. He just expects us to be in D.C. in time for the beginning of our shift at 1800 hours. New York to D.C. takes five hours – tops. We can do this, but we gotta be smart about it. "

I relaxed. "Okay, okay. You're right. It's too late to show up on Tina's front porch right now. She's probably already asleep anyway."

"And you stink," Tank added.

"Thanks a lot," I grumbled, knowing he was right. It had been a very long day.

"Just sayin'," he said with a shrug. "Besides, while you were whining about our suspects, I was texting Miss Plum and I told her we'd be stopping by her office around 0800 hours. They're really not open at that hour, but she said she and Miss Minardo _and_ Miss Sanderson will be there to let us in early. She also said the coffee and bagels would be ready whenever we got there."

"Like I said before, I love you, man," I joked. This time Tank punched me in my arm. It really hurt. A lot.

We finally stopped at a Holiday Inn near the New Jersey Turnpike at three in the morning. After sleeping for a few hours – in separate beds, of course – we showered, shaved and got dressed. Although I really didn't want to, I put the stupid wig back on my head and groomed it as well as I could manage. Tank, at least, looked slightly cool with his afro wig, but I knew I looked like a total dork. Thank God my Tina was not fazed by the whole sneaking-around-in-disguise crap. When we were ready, we drove to the main headquarters building of Books/Plum Designs in Newark, New Jersey – my hometown.

"I hope to God nobody recognizes me," I said as Tank and I walked up to the entrance of the very nice-looking office building.

Tank sighed, "You know the drill, Santos. Just keep your head down and your sunglasses on until you're with safe people."

"Are you nervous? I mean, you know, about meeting your own '_Babe_' in the flesh?" I asked.

"I wasn't," he replied, "until you mentioned it."

Hah! I was gonna enjoy watching this close encounter. Then again, as soon as I saw Tina's smiling face on the other side of the glass doors, I forgot all about Tank. I vaguely remember saying "Hi" to Stephanie Plum and Tank's new woman, Keira Sanderson, but the rest of my time at the offices of Books/Plum Designs was spent entirely with the future Mrs. Lester Santos.

I can't even tell you what we talked about because I don't think we talked very much at all. Tina said something about an empty photography studio, which is where I think she took me, and she fed me a fresh bagel with cream cheese in between kisses that scorched my socks off. In fact, we were so hot for each other I'm sure all our clothes just melted off. I barely remember getting naked, but somehow, that's the way we ended up – naked and entangled on a sofa in a dressing room of some sort. All I know is that it felt like I was in heaven. Tina was so sweet, so loving, so hot! Damn! I never, ever wanted to leave her.

"Tina," I said, "I want to marry you – right now. Will you marry me?"

"Sure, I'll marry you, Lester. But not right this instant," she said as she snuggled closer to me. "I'm a true romantic, so you'd best get used to it. All my life I've dreamed of a big, fairytale wedding; with lots of bridesmaids and my dad walking me down the aisle. There'll be a ridiculously large reception with a massive wedding cake and all my aunts, uncles and cousins. Everyone will dance late into the night and we'll have brunch together the following morning. Then you and I will fly away to some Caribbean island for the best honeymoon ever. Now, I'm also a realist. My dream wedding is _so_ not gonna happen today and we both know it. Besides, Stephanie and I have to fly to Tokyo tonight."

I sat bolt upright and brought her with me, exclaiming, "Tokyo? As in Japan? Why the hell are you going to Japan? And how long are you planning to stay there?"

She hugged my bare chest and said, "Because we're hoping to launch the _Babe!_ line into the Asian market. We'll only be gone for two weeks," she grinned mischievously, "with a stopover in London."

Wiping my face, I said, "Damn, Tina, don't you know how messed-up this crazy world we live in is? I'd feel a lot better if I knew where my future wife was gonna be at all times! All kinds of shit happens out there, you know."

Tina gently kissed my lips and cooed, "Aw, aren't you the sweetest thing? Look at you – you're already acting protective over me. That's so sexy!" Then she proceeded to show me how sexy my caveman impulses were to her.

Needless to say, we'll be waiting to get married. Now that I know what my lady's dreams are, I know exactly what I have to do. She's not the only romantic in the house. First, I'll have to go to my family's jewelry store and design a ring for Tina. Then I'll need to meet her family and ask her father for his permission to marry his daughter. Then I'll arrange for a special evening out and "pop the question" the _right_ way. Of course, it's nice to know Tina already said "Yes," but I figure she's worth going through all this romantic bullshit anyway. I'm a happy man. And from what I can tell, Tank is a happy man, too.

Now, if we can just catch the Chameleon and bring Carlos and Bobby and the rest of the team home safely, we'll all be _very_ happy men.

_Carlos' POV_

It took a few weeks of fake skirmishes with U.S. troops and sharing evening meals with Ali Mohammed al-Rashad for the man to trust Bobby/Jamaal and me enough to assign us the important task of eliminating Hawkins and Bell. Two of the men who were part of the guard forces the terrorist maintained for his personal protection brought the hooded and whimpering cryptographers to our house for final disposal. My gut twisted when I saw how terribly broken the men were. Interestingly, al-Rashad told us to wait at least twelve hours – until his transportation had taken him out of our area – before we killed the now-useless Americans. The bastard obviously didn't like to get his hands dirty, but none of his underlings challenged him on it. I didn't really care, though, because he had played right into our hands.

We waited nearly an entire day before we set off the giant explosion, which completely destroyed the house we'd been staying in. By that time, we had secretly passed Hawkins and Bell into the secure hands of the SF team with whom we had exchanged gunfire the previous week. Someday I hoped to have a beer with those guys and thank them for all of their help, but for now Bobby and I had to lay low with the rest of our team at Nabhan Udeen's house.

We had set up the explosion in such a way that it appeared I, as Hassaan Azzaam, had mistakenly triggered the IED I was making, which ignited the ammunition that was stored in the house, causing a secondary and far more devastating explosion. We let it be known that Hassaan and the two captured Americans were blown to bits, Jamaal suffered life-threatening injuries and Badr survived with a broken arm and some superficial cuts and scrapes. Al-Rashad immediately returned to Tikrit to assess the damage and visit the injured men. I was well hidden in the safe room, but I could hear every word of every conversation through a variety of listening devices carefully placed throughout the house.

"Badr!" al-Rashad barked when he entered Nabhan's house with his bodyguards following a respectful distance behind him. "What happened after I left?"

"I'm feeling okay. Thank you for asking," Badr replied sullenly and he gently raised his arm that was wrapped in a cast and sling.

Al-Rashad sucked in air and snarled, "Did you at least accomplish the mission I gave you before I left?"

Badr answered, "Yes, the Americans are dead. They were dead before the explosion. We were going to bury them after nightfall, but … but that never happened. My friend Hassaan is dead. My friend Jamaal probably will die, too. What more can you possibly want?"

Sighing, al-Rashad said, "I heard it was Hassaan's own bomb that killed him. I remember all the trouble he had building the one we used during that first attack after I gained the codes. You should have supervised him more closely. What an imbecile! At least he donated most of his money to our cause before he died. Allah be praised."

"He was my _friend_!" Badr exclaimed in an anguished tone of voice. "And all we found of him were … were pieces."

"May I see your other friend? Jamaal, isn't it?" al-Rashad asked.

"He's in the back room with my cousin," Badr replied. "Jamaal has lost so much blood, we don't think he'll survive the night. And we don't have enough morphine to keep him comfortable, so Nabhan and I are taking turns sitting with him until … until the end. He is our kinsman, after all."

"Yes, I remember," said al-Rashad.

Then they walked back to the room where Bobby/Jamaal was lying on a cot, covered in blood-soaked bandages, and moaning pitifully. Badr and Bobby definitely deserved Academy Awards for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor in a Dramatic Role. In fact, Bobby had done such a great job making himself look like a man on his deathbed that al-Rashad made a slight choking sound when he saw him. After giving a few words of condolence to the Udeen cousins, the interrogator quickly left the house with his bodyguards in tow.

The next day, word went out that Jamaal Faarooq Abdullah had died of his wounds during the wee hours of the night and that his cousins had buried him in a family plot. People would forever consider him and his compatriot, Hassaan Azzaam, martyrs for the cause. Word also came back that Ali Mohammed al-Rashad, now ecstatic over his particular terrorist cell's ability to decode U.S military communications, had departed the area. The man was not well-liked among his own people. Apparently, there was much rejoicing over the many victories of the day.

Bobby and I and the rest of my team simply rejoiced at still being alive. It was incredible to think about, but _Operation Eagle's Talon _was beating the crap out of the predicted 90% casualty rate so far. And now that al-Rashad's terrorist cell was set up with codes that were no longer valid, our intel guys could monitor exactly where and when the "intercepted" information was being used against us. Tank assured me he and Lester were making good progress toward identifying the mole. Bobby and I still had a long way to go to get back home and there were no guarantees for our safety along the way. Nevertheless, I could almost feel my Babe's arms wrapped around me as I sat on my cot and contemplated the future I fully intended to make happen as soon as possible.

**TBC**

_AN: We have added more story pictures to the TNH Flickr page; the link is on our TNH2 profile page. You might want to check it out and see pictures of Carlos and Ali Mohammed al-Rashad in Iraq, and also pictures of Rosa and Dawson's wedding and honeymoon in Greece. _


	28. Chapter 28 Chapter 112

**CHAPTER 112**

_Tank's POV_

_Keira_. Keira Sanderson. Keira Elaine Sanderson. Keira Elaine Sanderson _James_. Keira James.

I just met the girl of my dreams fifty-eight hours, two minutes and sixteen seconds ago and I can hardly wait to see her again. Two days have passed since Lester and I went to Newark while on our way back to D.C. after a very interesting and informative trip up to Boston. Carlos' woman definitely came through for me with my own _Babe!_ model. I've been keeping a copy of her magazine ad tucked away in my wallet so I can take it out and remember our first meeting. All I can think about is Keira's smooth brown skin and sharp eyes and yes, her exquisitely shaped booty. As my granny used to say, "Lord, have mercy!" Keira Sanderson has a mighty fine backside and I can't wait to put my hands all over it.

When Santos and I arrived at the office building of Books/Plum Designs, Stephanie Plum greeted us as old friends. Then we both watched as Santos' woman, Tina, grabbed his hand and led him down the hall toward the elevator. They were staring goofily at each other and I shook my head in mild disgust. Stephanie was grinning at their silliness and I couldn't help but wonder if Carlos would behave just as ridiculously around his lady. I still had my arms crossed over my chest when Stephanie turned to me and introduced me to her other co-worker and changed my world.

"Tank, I like you to meet Keira Sanderson, and Keira, this is Sergeant James. Tank James," she said as she lightly touched my shoulder. "However, as I explained earlier, he is incognito."

My mind went blank. Although I had gazed at Keira's _Babe!_ ad more than a few times, I simply wasn't prepared to meet her in the flesh. Of course I took notice of the woman when we entered the building, but Santos' antics held my attention at first. As soon as my eyes truly focused on the lovely Miss Keira Sanderson, not only was I speechless, but I was thought-less as well. I couldn't think of anything except how gorgeous she was.

Keira is an impressive woman. She's over six feet tall and her curves … Damn! She's got curves in all the right places. I know I was staring impolitely as I noticed the inner glow of her flawless milk chocolate skin and her beautiful big brown eyes. In fact, her eyes captivated me until she smiled. And then her entire face lit up. Keira looked stunning and I was appreciating every inch of her. Right then, I knew I was just as much of a goner as Santos was with his Tina.

"P-p-pleased to meet you, Miss Sanderson," I stammered out like an idiot.

Unfortunately, Keira was not so impressed with my appearance. I felt the heat of her inspection upon my person and I knew instinctively that she found me lacking. She let her eyes glide up and down my massive frame, coming to rest on the ridiculous short Afro wig that covered my shaved head. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

"Hmph!" Keira pursed her lips. "My name's Keira. Stephanie _told_ me that you would look a little different than your picture and she wasn't lying. You _do know_ that you and your hillbilly buddy look like rejects from the 1980s?" She tossed her head toward the hall where Lester and his lady had trotted down. "Is your friend's undercover assignment to impersonate Billy Ray Cyrus, or since he's Latino I suppose I should say, Guillermo Raymundo?" Then she waved her hand in the air at my head and proclaimed, "This is _so_ not a good look for either of you."

I felt my face get hot and I was thankful the average person couldn't tell I was blushing from embarrassment. "It's temporary," I explained, giving a slight tug on the edge of the wretched wig. Then I tried to lighten things up by saying, "You being in high fashion and all, _Keira_, maybe you could give me some pointers?"

She tried not to smile, but I could see the slight twitch in Keira's lips, which told me she was more amused than turned-off by my ridiculous appearance. Then she shocked me to my toes by reaching up and putting both her hands alongside my face. Her fingers felt warm as she gently turned my head from side to side to take a closer look at the back of my 'hairdo.' Lord, have mercy! The woman smelled so good, I couldn't stop myself from leaning in even closer to inhale deeply. When I opened my eyes, she was smiling at me.

Then Keira spoke to me very quietly, just like this one drill sergeant I had back when I was a newbie, whose voice always got real quiet right before he hammered me. Yes, her voice had that same ringing authority one just couldn't ignore, "Well, Sarge, I'm not so sure my 'high fashion' pointers would do you much good. I knew our government was having budget problems, but this is one really, _really_ cheap wig and it doesn't even look right on you. Makes you look like one of those men who just can't accept the fact of their receding hairlines. Honestly! This rug is so old and lame, I'm surprised none of the brothers have ripped it off your head and burned it by now."

I don't know why, but her comment rubbed me the wrong way and I stopped smiling at her. Maybe it was her tone of voice, sounding like she was disrespecting our country. Or maybe it seemed like she was disrespecting _me_. Whatever it was, I was just about to tell Miss High-and-Mighty fashion model exactly what she could do with her pointers, but Stephanie Plum – bless her – jumped in to prevent this initial meeting from going south.

"Keira, Tank is a decorated military man with a long distinguished service and I have it from a trusted source that he is a good and loyal friend. His disguise is a necessary part of his … um… job." Then she turned to me and continued, "Tank, Keira's on our marketing team here at Books/Plum Designs and she specializes in choosing which models to use for our various marketing campaigns, whether it be for our sales catalogs, or print ads or even our upcoming television ads. She takes our models from their everyday look and transforms them into the beautiful women you see in our _Babe! _ads."

Thankful for Stephanie's interference, I pinned Keira with a glance and said, "So, you're kinda like a casting director?" Her eyes widened as she attempted to stare me down in return, so I quipped, "Got couch?"

Stephanie cringed, so I guess I'd said something I shouldn't have. I think we both were shocked and relieved when Keira laughed out loud and shook her head at me.

"Actually, I do. It's in our photography studio. And I also think we have something better than that God-awful Brillo pad you've got sitting on top of your head." Then Keira grabbed my hand and pulled me along the hall to the elevator, calling back to Stephanie, "We'll be back in a little while, Steph. This soldier needs a little makeover so he can play his life or death role more effectively."

I only had time to glance over my shoulder to see Stephanie giving me a little finger wave before I was led away like a lamb to the slaughter.

We rode up to the third floor in silence and then I followed Keira out to the photography studio. There was another embarrassing moment when we heard all the noise Santos and his lady were making. Obviously, this was where they had rushed off to and they had wasted no time getting reacquainted. We stood there in the hall for a few moments before Keira made a decision.

"You stay here," she ordered, "I'm just going to slip in quietly, grab a few tools and things, and I'll be right back."

She eased herself in the door and returned in less than a minute, as though she was Spec Ops, too, and then she was leading me back to the elevator. It was a good thing the office building wasn't open yet because Tina was singing out Lester's name in such a manner that no one could mistake what was going on in the studio. Yeah, I was gonna give Santos a hard time over this little escapade for sure.

"Sorry about that," she said as the elevator doors closed. "We'll just go down to my office. The lighting is almost as good in there."

I cleared my throat and asked, "Does your co-worker, Tina, make use of the studio often?"

Keira cut her eyes to mine and hers were flashing fire. "What are you trying to say?" She poked me in the chest as she spoke, "You don't know anything about anything, do you? It takes _two_ to tango and your friend looked like he was more than ready for 'Dancing with the Stars.' Can't you tell when two people are head-over-heels in love?"

"I … I … um …uh …" was all I could stammer out before the elevator stopped and the doors opened on the first floor and Keira stormed out.

"You'd better keep your mouth shut while I try to help you out," she said. "Or else I won't be responsible for whuppin' up on you if you keep spewing such pitiful nonsense."

I decided the best course of action was to keep my mouth shut.

"This is my office," she said and I followed her into the well-appointed space and stopped to observe my surroundings. The walls were covered with glossy magazine ads and _Babe!_ photos and I recognized many of them. Other than the photos, though, it looked like a regular private office, with a desk and filing cabinets and all, but it smelled better than any office space I'd ever been in before. In fact, it smelled real good. It smelled like Keira. I could have stood there in the middle of that room all day just inhaling her perfect scent. But she kept walking and disappeared through another doorway.

When she realized I hadn't followed her, Keira poked her head back out and said, "C'mon in here, so I can take care of that big ol' head of yours."

I gulped at the different ways I could take that statement, even though I knew she was talking about my sorry wig. I hoped Keira couldn't read my mind as I followed her into the small latrine attached to her office. I remarked on how nice it must be to have her own private facilities.

"It's one of the perks of my position here as the director of… _casting_," she replied, saying the last word a little sarcastically. "I'm in charge of make-up and wardrobe, as well as the photographers, and I often need to send a model in here to adjust her outfit or fix up her face before a photo shoot, especially if we're getting ready to try something different. Sorry, but you'll have to sit on the 'throne' there." And she indicated the closed toilet seat.

I dutifully sat down and held my breath as Keira brandished a different Afro wig in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. She snatched my wig off and tossed it over her shoulder. The poor thing landed unceremoniously on the floor. Then she gently positioned the new wig onto my head and began snipping away at the springing strands of fake hair. When she leaned over my shoulder to reach a section on the side of my head, I thought I might faint. Her luscious bosom was directly in my face and I had to sit on my hands _and_ think about death and destruction to keep myself from dishonoring both of us.

"You know, this won't look so terrible when I'm through with it," she murmured, mostly to herself. "In fact, it's looking pretty good already, if I do say so myself." Every time she shifted positions, some soft part of her body touched mine and my body reacted as any red-blooded male's body would have reacted. I was as hard as a rock. When Keira was finished with the scissors, she used some sort of brush to whisk away all the hair clippings from my back, then my shoulders and finally my chest. It was pure agony having her so close to me with her hands moving softly over my body.

"You okay, there, Sarge?" she asked. "You look like you're ready to keel over. I think you'll feel better if you take a breath."

Easier said than done. And I needed to distract myself, and fast, from the ungentlemanly thoughts racing through my head.

"So … uh, how'd you get into this line of work?" I asked, trying not to think about her intoxicating scent.

Keira leaned back against the sink to look at her handiwork and replied, "My mother was a dancer in Harlem and on Broadway. She always looked so glamorous. I used to love all her sparkly costumes and fancy make-up. When I was little, I wanted to be just like her, but you see, my daddy was a linebacker. He played a few seasons of pro ball with the Giants." Then she was silent for a while.

"And …?" I prompted her.

A sad look passed over her face and she sighed, "Harlem fell on bad times and Broadway rarely has parts for women of color who happen to be larger than average. I started doing make-up _backstage_, because I couldn't get a job _onstage_. I could dance rings around most of the other girls, but audition after audition, the directors never chose me. I even offered to go for a round or two on the so-called 'casting couch,' but I never caught a break."

"That's not right," I said, feeling bad about her dreams being ruined like that. Now I knew why Stephanie had cringed when I made a joke about the couch earlier.

Keira shrugged, "That's just the way it is. Unless it's a production of 'Porgy and Bess' or 'Dreamgirls,' most directors won't choose a big woman like me."

"I'd choose you, no matter what. I _like_ big women." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Keira just stared at me. Then she stiffened and turned away from me.

"I … I … I'm sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean to imply that you're…"

"Don't worry about it," she snapped. "I'd better get you back to Stephanie so you can be on your way." And she briskly walked back into her office.

I wanted to bang my head on the edge of the porcelain sink. How could I be so stupid? I know a woman is allowed to call herself big or fat or ugly or whatever, but no sane man will utter such a thing. That is, not if he ever wants to get with a woman. And I certainly hoped to get together with Miss Keira Sanderson. If only I hadn't stuck my foot in my mouth … again.

I stood up and brushed the remaining snippets of wig hair off of my pants. When I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, I was amazed. Keira had worked a miracle. Not only did the new wig fit me much better, it also looked quite natural. The style was a bit more up-to-date and I no longer looked like a reject from the eighties. If possible, I think I fell even more in love with Keira.

"Are you comin', or what?" she yelled from her office.

Once again, I had to bite my tongue. And clean up my dirty thoughts.

"You did a damn fine job," I said when I emerged from the bathroom. "I thank you. And on behalf of my chain of command and everyone who's had to look at me for the past few months, the U.S. Army thanks you, Miss Sanderson."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "So, now we're back to Miss Sanderson, huh?"

I shrugged and walked over to where she was leaning on her desk. It was then that I noticed the photos in three little frames at one corner of the desk.

"You like pussycats?" I asked.

Both of her eyebrows shot up and she replied, "I like _tom_cats." Then she picked up one of the frames and gazed lovingly at the lounging silver tabbies that seemed to have mischievous grins on their feline faces. "These are my boys – Kid and Play. They're both cuddlers and they keep me warm at night."

My mouth went dry. I could just picture the way those cats must snuggle up to their mistress in the comfort of her bed. I'd never been jealous of any animal before, but I could have wrestled those cats for the pleasure of keeping Keira warm myself. Maybe someday…

"You're lucky,' I said. "I like cats, too, but with my job, it's impossible to keep pets. We never know when we're leaving and we never know when we're coming back. It wouldn't be fair to confuse an animal that way, especially if… if we didn't come back at all." Our eyes made contact, but I dropped my gaze under the intense look she gave me.

Keira stared at me a long while before she turned to replace the photo frame on her desk. With her back to me, I heard her sigh heavily and utter in a low voice, "That must make for a lonely home life." Turning back to me, she said, "Tina is under the impression that Lester won't be in the Army for much longer. What about you? Are you planning on a career change anytime soon?"

"That's a big question right now," I replied. "I'm kinda waiting to see what my buddy, Carlos, is gonna do when he gets back."

She gave a slight shake to her head. "Well, you're cute and all, but I don't have time for this long-distance crap," she said, her lips thinner with some unidentifiable emotion. "Between Stephanie and Tina, there's enough of that going on around here. When you figure yourself out, you can give me a call." Then she sashayed out of her office.

A grin crept onto my face as I followed her down the hall, thinking, "_At least my future lady thinks I'm cute._"

"Tank. _Tank_," I heard a voice intruding on my thoughts. "Earth to Tank." It was Lester, poking my shoulder with his index finger, which he knew was not a wise thing to do.

"What?" I snapped as I grabbed his finger and squeezed it a little too tightly in my closed fist.

"Ow!" he exclaimed and I released him. "Damn it, man! Why you tryin' to crush my finger?"

"You know not to touch me like that," I growled. "You're lucky I didn't snap it off on instinct."

Rubbing his now sore finger, Lester said, "I was just trying to get your attention. I'd been calling your name for several minutes, but your mind was obviously somewhere else. Probably Newark, but we don't have time for that right now. Colonel Striker's secretary just sent me an e-mail to tell us he's on his way over here to look at the documents we dug up on Mary Shamone. You got that report ready?"

"It's been ready for a while," I replied. Then I sighed and apologized, "Sorry about your finger, Santos."

"No problem, man," he said. "I know we're both itching to go back to Jersey. All we gotta do is finish up this mission and then we can get the hell outta here. I think I hate D.C. now. I _know_ I hate this wig." He tugged at his artificial golden locks. I couldn't believe how comfortable my new wig was. It was a shame we hadn't had the time for Keira to fix his wig, too.

There was a knock on the door and Col. Striker stepped into the office. "At ease!" he commanded.

Lester and I still stood up, but we didn't assume the position of attention. The colonel had an intense look that put both of us on alert, though.

"I've just come from the secure ops center," Col. Striker spoke solemnly. "I regret to inform you that Marc Pardo, aka Hassaan Azzaam, and Jamaal Faarooq Abdullah are confirmed dead after an unfortunate explosion at their residence on the outskirts of Tikrit, Iraq."

We sucked in air, but he held up a hand to keep us from interrupting him.

He continued, "Other operatives in the area report the relative safety of certain members of the Udeen family, who have been very helpful to our side for quite some time." Then he broke into a wide grin and said, "Of course, this means Captain Mañoso and Sergeant Brown will be wrapping up their part of the current mission and returning to the good ol' U.S. of A. in short order. They'll still have to keep a very low profile, but at least they'll be back home."

"Yesssss!" Lester pumped his fist in triumph. "I _knew_ they'd do it!" Then he straightened up and said more calmly, "That's great news, sir."

My own face split into a wide grin as I made eye contact with Lester and then the colonel. We all knew our jobs were not fully done until we caught that damn mole and tied up all the loose ends. Still, I had to ask, "What about Bell and Hawkins, sir?"

"Both cryptologists are safely tucked away at our secure medical facility in Germany," the colonel replied. "They're in pretty bad shape. Understandably, they both feel they've let down our nation by not being able to withstand the enemy's torture. Since we need them to stay out of sight until after we catch the Chameleon, we're going to keep them over there for a while to recuperate both physically and mentally."

"What about their families, sir?" Lester asked. "Have they been informed?"

Col. Striker hesitated and then said, "Not exactly. No. We just can't afford any more security leaks on this mission. Too much is at stake here. If the family members find out too much too soon, you can bet someone will blab to the media and then all our hard work will go down the toilet."

Lester shook his head and said, "Sir, I know we've got a job to do, but isn't the CIA concerned that those families will freak out once they learn the truth?"

"Trust me," Col. Striker replied, "CIA officials are keeping a tight lid on things right now. So far, the casualty assistance officers assigned to 'assist' the families of Robert Bell and Justin Hawkins have been able to stall the memorials and insurance collections. When the time is right, someone at the forensics lab will 'discover' the discrepancies the Chameleon set in motion. Now that they've been rescued, the bigwigs will have to decide the best moment to 'resurrect' the cryptographers. I've heard they were almost ready to place those poor guys into some sort of witness protection program with their families, and thanks to Captain Mañoso and Sergeant Brown, they won't have to. Still, Bell and Hawkins have a tough road ahead of them, but that can't be our main concern. We all have our own jobs to do. Speaking of which, I hear you have an updated report for me."

"Yes sir, we're 99.9% sure this Mary Shamone is our Chameleon," I said, handing him the manila folder containing our latest report. We waited several minutes while the colonel read through the thick packet of papers.

When he finally spoke, his voice was full of emotion as he waved the papers in front of his face. "If I remember correctly, Sergeant James, you said you put your money on our mole being one of the biomeds. And I'll be damned if you weren't correct. This is un-f'ing-believable. _Two_ birth certificates. And the CIA totally missed it."

"Ain't it wild, sir?" Lester asked. "Mary Shamone from New York City is also Marya Shamon, born in Damascus, Syria. We couldn't believe it, either."

"Her parents were pretty smart to have her documents adjusted when they immigrated to the States," I chimed in. "Shamone sounds like an Italian name. And even though she's a 'bottle blonde,' no one would ever suspect she was from the Middle East. She's been flying under the radar for a long time, sir."

The colonel nodded and said, "Now we just have to connect her to al-Rashad."

"We're on it, sir," Lester and I said in unison.

**TBC**


	29. Chapter 29 Chapter 113

**CHAPTER 113**

_Lester's POV_

Tank and I were just finishing up for the day when Colonel Striker's secretary buzzed us to let us know he was on his way to our office with a couple of guests in tow. I hustled to throw away the empty coffee cups, while Tank straightened the stacks of documents at the workstation. Now that we possessed the information we needed to play "Whack-a-Mole" with Mary Shamone, we were just waiting for the go-ahead from Col. Striker's boss.

There were three sharp raps on the door before the colonel entered the office. Tank and I stood at attention as our temporary boss ushered two men in suits into the small space. One man was tall, with sandy blond hair, a narrow face and very blue eyes. The other man was of average height, with dark hair and dark eyes and he looked just like my cousin, Julio.

"At ease, gentlemen," ordered Col. Striker. "Sergeant James, Sergeant Santos, I want you to meet Special Agents Larsen and Jimenez. They're with the FBI and they're going to be with you for the remainder of this operation."

I exchanged glances with Tank, even as the tall guy extended his hand.

"Johannes Larsen," he said and he clasped my hand in greeting. "We're with the FBI's domestic counter-terrorism division. I'm the Special-Agent-in-Charge of this case."

The other man stepped forward to shake Tank's hand and introduced himself, "I'm Special Agent Silvio Jimenez. I'm actually the computer specialist assigned to this case. We understand you two have uncovered quite a little cache of information over here, including some computer files I'll need to look at as soon as possible."

"With all due respect, sir," I addressed Col. Striker, "I thought Sergeant James and I were handling this situation, uh, sort of on our own. We've done all this work and…"

The colonel interrupted me, "I understand your concerns, Sergeant Santos, but this is how it has to be. You know as well as I do that the FBI handles this kind of law enforcement. As military men, even as special operators, you are not authorized to issue or serve warrants to members of the civilian population. My boss made that fact crystal clear to me when I gave him the information packet you put together. Now I'm making it crystal clear to you. Work with Agents Larsen and Jimenez and close this case. That's a direct order. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," both Tank and I snapped to attention and saluted the colonel before he left the office and closed the door behind him.

Agent Larsen held up both of his hands in a gesture of surrender and said, "Sorry about that. It's not the way we wanted to come in. I've seen the entire packet you created and it's some of the best fieldwork I've ever seen. Very thorough, very professional."

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Agent Jimenez, gazing at our obvious disguises. "When either of you decide to hang up your military uniforms for good, you should consider coming to work for the FBI. We could use a few more agents with your skills."

Tank merely stared at the two men, while I was fighting hard to maintain control over my temper. All I could think about was how much this new twist sucked. I mean, there we were, on the verge of wrapping up this whole mess without interference from anyone outside our unit. I think Tank must have recognized the look on my face because he placed a hand on my arm to keep me from speaking my mind.

"If we're gonna be working together, sirs, we'd better dig in and get started," Tank said.

"Please, call me Lars," Agent Larsen said. "The whole 'sir' thing really isn't necessary."

Agent Jimenez nodded. "That's the truth. Call me Silvio. By the time we wrap up this case, I hope we're all going to be good friends."

"Yeah, this could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership," Lars said in a sort-of Humphrey Bogart accent.

Tank and I exchanged another glance and then we submitted to the inevitable.

"My name is Lester," I said as I extended my hand for another round of handshakes. "And this is Tank. It's an honor to be working with you."

And as I looked into each man's eyes, I recognized the same kind of determination and fire that I saw in my mirror every day. Perhaps this really would be the beginning of a great partnership.

_Frank's POV_

This week sucks. On Monday night, I drove my daughter, Stephanie, and a few of her friends to the airport and they all boarded a plane for Tokyo, Japan. _Jeez!_ I remember going on R&R there once, when I was in Vietnam. It was such a busy city, like New York, even back then. Flying over to the other side of the world takes a long time, so Stephanie wasn't able to call me until Wednesday. I hope they'll all stay safe while they're over there.

Earlier on Monday, long before I took her to the airport, Stephanie went in to her office a few hours before its usual opening time. She hadn't planned on going in at all, but she told me she had some last-minute things to do before her trip. She seemed so excited. Getting the opportunity to travel for her job was new to her and I was proud of all her hard work and her accomplishments. I know she felt bad about changing our plans to spend the whole morning together, but I assured her it was okay. It really didn't make any difference to me, because Blackie and I planned to have an all-guy week, anyway. Still, the house feels empty without her.

After three solid days of Pino's take-out pizza and pasta, I finally accepted a dinner invitation at my daughter, Valerie's place. As usual, it was happy chaos and I was glad to be a part of it. After a very nice dinner of roasted chicken and potatoes, I settled on the sofa with Angie sitting on one side and Mary Alice sitting on the other. I read a few Dr. Seuss stories to them, including Hop on Pop and The Lorax. Then I helped Val put the girls to bed.

"Thanks for coming over, Daddy," Val said as we sipped coffee at her kitchen table. "The girls and I really enjoyed your company tonight. I'm so glad you read to them before bedtime."

I ruffled her hair like I used to do when she was a kid and replied, "Thanks for havin' me over, sweetheart. It's been a long time since I read Dr. Seuss to a coupla little girls."

Val looked at me with confusion in her eyes. "I don't remember you ever reading those stories to _me_."

"Sure, I did," I insisted. "I know I read more than a few stories to you and Stephanie when you were little."

"Maybe you read to Steph, Daddy, but you never read to me," Val said sadly. "I swear, I would've remembered it. But don't worry; everyone knows Stephanie was always your favorite. I'm Mom's favorite. That's just the way it is and I'm okay with it. I know you love me, too."

My heart hurt. How could I have been so blind? Here I was, blaming Ellen for so much of the crap that had happened in our family and I had just discovered more of my faults.

"I … I'm so sorry, Valerie. I never, ever meant to hurt you." I grasped her hand and held it tight.

She squeezed my hand in return and then she came around the table to hug me. "Oh, Daddy, I never felt like you ever hurt my feelings. I promise. You're the best father ever."

With tears in my eyes, I hugged her back and stifled my tears.

After a moment, Val released me and patted my hand. Her eyes also held unshed tears, as she said, "Daddy, I have some, um, news."

"News?" I asked. "What kind of news?"

"It's about Mom," she said as she glanced down at the floor. "You know the police commissioner, Joe Juniak?"

I nodded, "Of course, I know him. He was a coupla years behind me in school. Everybody knows Joe. Great cop. A shame about his wife, though. I guess it's been about two years since the cancer got her. God rest her soul."

"Yeah, well, I think he's out of mourning," Val said. Then she looked directly into my eyes. "I, um, dropped by the house the other day to check on Mom and, um, Joe Juniak was there."

It took me a moment to realize what my daughter was insinuating and I just had to laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, I think you've got the wrong idea. Dealin' with that scumbag of a husband of yours probably has you thinkin' about affairs all over the place. Your mother would never … no, I can't imagine your mother steppin' out on me. We've got our problems, but she believes in our weddin' vows. She even believes in _your_ weddin' vows. That's why she's been fightin' so hard to keep you married. No, I'm sure you're mistaken. In fact, I _asked_ Joe Juniak to explain to your mom the whole mess Joe Morelli has made of his life. I figured the police commissioner just might be the only person who could make your mother see the truth about that man."

Val sighed, "Daddy, I saw the way they were looking at each other."

I shook my head, "I understand you think you saw somethin', but it was probably nothing. Ellen's always known the Juniak family, and even though we don't really socialize in the same circles, they've stayed kinda close." Now it was my turn to sigh. "The man who your mother would've married was Joe Juniak's cousin."

"Wait," Val's eyes opened wide. "Mom was going to marry someone else besides you? Who was he? How long ago was this?"

"A long, long time ago," I said, and then I told her a much shorter version of the story I'd told Stephanie about Tam Farkas. Damn! I hated talking about 'Nam.

"Omigod, that's so sad!" Val exclaimed after I finished. "Daddy, I'm so sorry. For all of you."

"It is what it is," I replied with a shrug. "Life goes on."

Val shook her head, "I just think you should check on Mom a little more. Even if she and the commissioner haven't done anything yet, they definitely look like they want to. Trust me, I know the signs now."

"Okay, Val," I nodded. "I'll do that. Don't you worry about a thing. We may have our problems right now, but your mother and I aren't finished yet." Then I gathered her in my arms, kissed the top of her head, and got up from the table to head back to Stephanie's house.

On a whim, I decided to drop by my house and check on things, like I promised Val. The porch light cast a warm glow on the front sidewalk, but the interior lights weren't on. That was strange. Ellen didn't usually have any clubs or activities scheduled on Thursday nights. On a different whim, I decided to drive up to Hamilton Township, where Joe Juniak lived. The houses in his neighborhood were very large, with nicely manicured lawns. Juniak's Colonial-style white brick home was quite impressive, with several large columns framing a long front porch. Ellen's car was parked at one end of the circular driveway.

Despite all my differences with Ellen over the destructive way she meddled in our girls' lives, my heart still felt a sharp pain when I realized Val could be right. What an idiot I've been! I'd even sent Juniak to my wife myself. But the saddest thing of all was that I didn't feel the urge to go in and confront them. After all I'd learned about myself during my solo counseling sessions with our parish priest, I realized my romantic feelings for my wife had grown cold. I would always love Ellen for giving me my girls and for making our home as nice as possible before the girls grew up, but if Joe Juniak wanted her now, he could have her.

"Dammit all to Hell!" I muttered as I drove on to Newark. Maybe I was a fool, but if Ellen wanted someone other than me, then she'd have to put things in motion to make our separation final. If she really was becoming romantically involved with the Widower Juniak, the Burg gossip mill would pick up on it soon enough and put the pressure on her. No way was I going to be the one to confront her. After all of Ellen's talk about the sanctity of wedding vows, _she'd_ have to be the one to end our thirty-year marriage. Then maybe both of us could find some real happiness.

_Carlos' POV_

America! I can hardly believe I'm back on American soil again. _¡Gracias a Dios!_ Like Dorothy said, "There's no place like home." Except, I'm not really home yet. Stephanie is my true home. Wherever my Babe is, that's where I want to be. And I can't wait to get back to her.

It took close to three weeks of undercover travel through rough terrain, military debriefings, and hospital treatments for some of the very real injuries we had suffered, but Bobby Brown and I and the rest of my team finally returned to Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Our aircraft delivered us to a secure airfield in the dead of night, where the team was to stay in the barracks until the completion of the entire mission. 'Mission accomplished' included being able to bring home Hawkins and Bell who were still in Germany recovering from their wounds and mental trauma. And those two ill-fated men couldn't come home until the Chameleon was captured.

That was our team's highest priority now. Finding and arresting the traitor, the so-called Chameleon, who had sold out our country and had condemned the two cryptographers to a certain death. It had only been luck that circumstances had gone the way they had.

First, there was my gut instinct that the captured CIA operative, Curt Morgan, had not broken down under the horrific torture he'd had to endure and that we had been able to successfully rescue him from that Al-Qaeda cell. Our entire mission had changed after that.

The second bit of luck was that Morgan had overheard his captors talking about the faked death of the two U.S. cryptographers. He had learned there was a traitor, a mole, who was feeding top-secret information to someone high up in Al-Qaeda. Morgan was able to confirm that the explosion at the CIA headquarters in Rosslyn was an elaborate ruse to covertly kidnap the two cryptographers. Then Al-Qaeda tortured the men to obtain the top-secret codes the cryptographers had developed to be used by our military to relay critical information to our troops in the field. The Chameleon had to have had access to the cryptographers' DNA profiles and to the forensic evidence to successfully convince the CIA that the cryptographers had died in the explosion. Then no one would be looking for the cryptographers or know the codes had been comprised.

It was a brilliant plan and it would have worked if I had followed Operation Eagle Strike as originally outlined. But something had been set in motion when I admitted to myself that I'd fallen in love with Stephanie. My Babe had restarted a fire in my belly to look at the mission with new eyes. I was determined to come home to her no matter what. So, from the very start of the mission I questioned everything and listened to my gut. And in the end, we'd foiled the brass' ninety percent fatality prediction. And now we were finally home again, though our mission was far from over.

No one without a "need-to-know" was supposed to realize we were back in CONUS (the Continental U.S.) and we were given strict orders to not contact anyone who wasn't directly connected to our ongoing mission. Thankfully, Tank had a need-to-know.

"Hey, Superman, it's good to hear your voice!" Tank sounded as though I had awakened him. "That was mighty fine work you and the team did over there in the sandbox." Even though our military phones were secure, we all knew better than to discuss anything important or relevant to our mission.

"Fun and games, man, fun and games," I replied with a chuckle. "I hear you and your buddy are finally earning your paycheck."

"Yeah, we've been working the night shift so long, I think I'm beginning to understand the whole vampire thing," he said. "You gonna bring me back into the light sometime soon?"

"Damn straight!" I said. "I know you've been forced into working with the guys who wear suits and all, but I've talked our boss into letting me and Brown come up there to assist you on the down-low."

"Actually, the 'Men in Black' are alright," Tank said. "I think you'll like them."

_Interesting_, I thought. Then I continued with the real purpose of my call. "There's something else I need your help on. I need to see you-know-who. ASAP! I want you to set up a meeting at a particular location. I'm sending you all the details in an encrypted message. You can let me know when everything's in place, but it had better be within the next forty-eight hours."

Tank paused longer than usual before answering. "That's gonna be somewhat difficult, Superman."

A bad feeling crept into my heart. "What do you mean by '_difficult_'?"

"Well, _you_ might be CONUS, but _she's_ not," he replied.

"WHAT THE – where the hell is she?" I tried to keep from yelling with frustration, but I don't think I succeeded.

"Japan."

**TBC**


	30. Chapter 30 Chapter 114

**CHAPTER 114**

_Stephanie's POV_

"Okay, okay, here's another thing," Melinda said. "No blowing your nose out in public, especially when we're in a meeting or eating at a restaurant. It's considered rude in Japan."

Amanda, who had been suffering from her allergies to dust ever since we'd boarded the plane, blew her nose loudly.

"Case in point," Melinda gestured toward Amanda. "You can't do _that_."

"Hey! I can't help it if my nose is runny!" protested Amanda from behind a fresh tissue.

Melinda replied, "I know your allergies have been bothering you, but when we're meeting with our Japanese counterparts, you'll just have to deal with the sniffles until you can excuse yourself to the restroom. In fact, sniffling is perfectly acceptable."

"Oh, for the love of Pete! Make her stop already!" Tina pleaded at me in an exaggerated New Jersey whine. "I can't take much more of this!"

"I'm just trying to help," Melinda replied defiantly. "We don't want to make fools of ourselves in front of these potential partners."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head in exasperation. Melinda had taken it upon herself to become our little entourage's unofficial "cultural ambassador" to Japan, especially since she spoke the language fairly fluently and had visited the country as a teenager when her uncle was stationed with the U.S. military in Okinawa. She had been giving us a zillion tips on how to behave and what to say and how to say it ever since we'd boarded our flight from London to Tokyo. We had been soaring through the air at altitude for almost five hours and Melinda had yammered all the way through one movie, which none of us got to watch. She continued while we ate our fabulous supper of pan-seared scallops, some sort of vegetable medley, and a rich chocolate cake for dessert. Tina and Amanda were sick of Melinda's tutoring. Personally, I liked learning about different cultures, but my multilingual friend's constant chatter _was_ becoming a bit tiresome.

Changing the subject slightly, I asked, "Melinda, how long did you say you stayed in Japan?"

"Almost the entire summer between my sophomore and junior years in high school," she replied. "My uncle knew he was going to be deployed to another location during that time and he asked my parents if they would let me come over and stay with his wife while he was away. She had just given birth to my cousin, Andrew, and boy, was he a handful! He cried all the time. Poor thing! He had colic."

"See?" Amanda jumped into the conversation. "That's why I'm not too keen on starting a family yet. What if I give birth to a colicky baby? I can't stand it when I hear a baby crying. Michael keeps asking when I'm going off the Pill and I keep hedging. I don't know when I'll be ready, but it's not going to be anytime soon."

"Oh, most babies don't stay colicky for long," Melinda said confidently. "Actually, my cousin grew out of it after only three months and he's been a happy kid ever since. I was just glad to be able to help my aunt get a few hours of peace and rest each day while I was there with her. My uncle was so grateful, he paid for my airfare both ways _and_ he gave me a nice allowance during my stay. It was the best summer job I ever had, even if it was filled with poopy diapers."

"But where did you go to spend your money?" Tina asked. "I thought you said Okinawa was one of the smaller islands, far away from Tokyo, and that you had to stay on the military base most of the time."

Melinda nodded. "That's true. Uncle John took me to Tokyo for a few days before I flew home, but there were lots of little shops right outside of the main gates of the military base, where you could buy all kinds of great hand-crafted items. There was even this one t-shirt shop that I…um…hmm…" Her sentence trailed off and she got a dreamy, far-away look in her eyes.

I exchanged glances with Tina and Amanda and then grinned. We all knew that look. Melinda had a habit of drifting off into her own little world whenever she was thinking about a man. Since she had been so young when she was a pseudo-nanny, we just knew she had to be thinking about one of her earliest crushes. We wanted details and Tina was the first one to pounce.

"Alright, Mel, give up the goods," Tina urged. "We _know_ you're thinking about someone of the opposite sex, so spill already. It's the least you could do after flogging us with Japanese etiquette lessons for hours on end."

Amanda jumped right in, too. "Yeah, tell us, Melinda. Who's the guy in your daydreams this time? Was he your first summer fling, or what?"

"Definitely 'or what.' He wasn't a 'fling' or anything like that," Melinda said and she blushed a deep shade of pink before she continued, "I only _wished_ he could have been my first boyfriend – instead of Calvin the Creep, who took me to the homecoming dance my junior year and practically choked me with his slimy tongue."

"Eww!" we all said in unison. Sadly, every one of us had had to deal with at least one creep in our dating history. I thought about Joe Morelli and wished – again – that _he_ had never happened.

"No, this boy was my first major crush," Melinda continued. "Sadly, I never even knew his name. I always thought of him as 'T-shirt Boy' because he sold cool American-style t-shirts at one of the little stores outside the military base. He was so cute! In fact, _he's_ the real reason I made myself learn as much of the Japanese language as I could that summer. I kept hoping I'd gather up the courage to actually speak to him before I returned home, but I never did. I'd just stand inside the store and stare at him until he noticed me and then I'd run away."

"Wait, wait, wait! Let me get this straight," Tina said, "You went through all the trouble of learning Japanese, which, by all accounts, is no easy thing to do. And then you chickened out on talking to the guy you had hoped to talk to in the first place?"

"I was fifteen!" Melinda replied. "And I was scrawny and awkward back then. Okinawa is actually more like a tropical island, so I stayed sunburned and my hair bleached out to a kind of strawberry-blonde color while I was there. I looked totally out of place among all the Asian faces. Besides, a ton of local girls always hung around the t-shirt shop, too, flirting shamelessly with the guy. They, of course, spoke their language fluently. I knew I'd never stand a chance against them."

"But you never even tried," Amanda reiterated.

"Again, I was _fifteen_," Melinda said defensively.

Amanda tsked. "I was fifteen when I first asked Michael to go to our high school's 'Sadie Hawkins' dance. You know, the one where the girls get to ask the guys?"

Tina scoffed, "Yeah, but that was _nerd_ love at first sight. You and Michael were computer lab partners. You've barely been married for two years and it took you, like, a bajillion years of dating before you finally took the plunge. How geeky can you get?"

"Hey! We both wanted to wait until after Michael got his PhD," Amanda replied. Now it was her turn to sound defensive.

Not wanting this conversation to disintegrate into name-calling or worse behavior, I changed the subject again.

"It's been a helluva long day," I said, stretching until I yawned. "Why don't we all try to get some sleep. It's already tomorrow in Tokyo and we'll be in this plane for at least six more hours."

Everyone agreed with me and the flight attendants helped us convert our seats into sleeper chairs. We were flying in the business class section of a British Airways Boeing 777 and it was quite comfortable. Dawson had insisted we not travel in the coach section, but I didn't want us to spend the money for first class tickets, either. The accommodations in the business section felt just right.

Our flight plan from New Jersey to Japan included a six-hour layover in London, which was great. My dad dropped us off at the Newark Airport, where our plane departed at eight o'clock on Monday evening, and we landed at Heathrow at seven o'clock on Tuesday morning. I had contacted Nicky Hill, the personal assistant who handled my previous visit to London and she gladly met us at our gate. We were able to leave the terminal and do some sightseeing while we were waiting for our connecting flight.

It was so much fun showing my friends a couple of my favorite sights, such as the London Eye and rowers on the Thames River, even though we spent a lot of time in the limousine. That was fine with me because I didn't want to take a chance on having the same kind of hallucinations I'd had the last time I was in town. Tina, Melinda and Amanda were quite impressed with the locations we were able to visit during our short time in London. Of course, Nicky took us to Harrods department store to see the fabulous _Babe!_ display there, and Barnaby, the head of their PR department, met us and gushed about the great sales numbers. It was nice to bask in the glow of success. And since we were already in the place, we all just had to do a little bit of shopping, too.

We only had our carry-on bags with us, so the souvenirs we bought were very small. Mostly key-chains and little refrigerator9000 magnets. As we walked around the various places, Tina kept finding old British coins on the sidewalks. When we were seated in the limousine again, Nicky examined Tina's fistful of coins and informed her they didn't amount to much. Interestingly, though, there was a vintage sixpence piece among the coins. Nicky said that particular piece had been out of circulation since the early 1970s, when the British restructured their currency. It was useless in the modern economy. Nevertheless, Tina remained excited about her findings.

"_See a penny; pick it up; and all the day you'll have good luck._ _Pass that penny to a friend, and your good luck will never end._ That's what my Nana would always say, so I always pick up pennies when I see them on the ground." Tina informed us as we moved through the traffic on our return trip to Heathrow. "They add up, too. I've got piggy banks and penny jars all over my apartment. One day, I'm gonna be filthy rich, even if it takes me one penny at a time."

"But _those_ aren't real pennies," Amanda protested as she pointed at the coins in the outstretched palm of Tina's hand. "You can't use them back in America."

Tina rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever. Finders, keepers." And she poured the coins into her jacket pocket. "I like 'em, therefore I'm keeping 'em. 'Nuff said."

As we hurried through the airport to make it to our departure gate on time, the contents of Tina's pocket jingled merrily. The guard at the security checkpoint gave her a funny look when she placed all of her coins in the basket with her cell phone and iPod, but he didn't say anything. We thanked Nicky profusely before we boarded the plane and she wished us well on our long journey to the Land of the Rising Sun. Our flight departed London at 12:30 in the afternoon on Tuesday and, after several hours of Melinda's Japanese culture and etiquette lessons, we finally settled into our sleeper seats for a few hours of somewhat cozy sleep. We arrived at Narita International Airport in Tokyo at 9:30 on Wednesday morning.

"Welcome to Japan!" That's what the big sign said as we exited through our arrival gate. There also was a big map to show us our location and Melinda pointed out that we weren't too far from Tokyo. Although I was disappointed to see that the airport looked like any other airport I'd been to, I was glad to see that it also was one of the cleanest and most orderly places I'd ever seen. Melinda had warned us that Japan was very crowded, but I could hardly believe that so many people could squeeze into such limited space and not be in a constant state of agitation. If this many people tried to crowd into the Newark airport, there would be fistfights breaking out all over the place.

Melinda gazed around at the many faces and then she approached a friendly-looking woman who appeared to be searching the crowd, too.

"Shitsurie desu ga, no Sato-san desu ka," Melinda asked as she bowed toward the woman. [_Excuse me, but are you Ms. Sato?_]

"Hai, so desu," the woman replied and bowed in return. (_Yes, that's right._)

"Watakushi, Books/Plum Designs no Merinda Wo-ka desu. Hajimemashite," Melinda bowed again. "Dozo yoroshiku o-negai itashimasu." [_I'm Melinda Walker from Books/Plum Designs. I'm glad to meet you. I hope things go well between us_.]

"Oh my, your Japanese is very good!" exclaimed the woman, bowing again. "I did not expect anyone in your group to know the language so well."

Melinda laughed. "I can speak _some_ Japanese, Sato-san, but my skills are not great. Please allow me to introduce you to my associates."

Sachiko bowed and said, "Please, let us use the Western custom of using our first names when we are not in a business meeting. It is so much easier for you that way."

Melinda agreed and then I was amazed when I heard her actually carrying on a short conversation in Japanese with our interpreter and guide. Finally, Sachiko Sato introduced herself to us and we all bowed and shook hands with her as Melinda introduced each of us. It was interesting to discover that everyone else in our group had names that were relatively easy for most Japanese to pronounce, but my name was a virtual nightmare. Since there isn't either a "st" or "pl" sound in Japanese, when Sachiko tried to say my name, it sounded something like "Sue-teh-fah-nee Pa-roo-may."

Of course, Melinda had explained to us, during her endless lecture on the plane, that the Japanese rarely used first names unless they were very familiar with each other. In most situations, especially in the business world, they usually referred to each other by their last names with the honorific '-san' attached to the end of them. Thus, Sachiko Sato was Sato-san for our official purposes, and Sachiko-san when we were being more casual. For the duration of this trip, whenever we spoke to each other in a business setting, Melinda Walker would be called Wo-ka-san, Amanda McCord would be Makorudu-san, Tina Minardo would be Minado-san, and I'd be called Ume-san. (_pronounced: Ooo-may-san_) Why Ume-san, you ask? Because 'ume' is the Japanese word for plum. Much easier than 'Pa-roo-may-san' and I thought it sounded nicer, too.

After everyone finished laughing at my name, we began walking through the airport terminal, following the signs to the baggage claim area. I kept getting distracted by all the different souvenir stores and food establishments along the way. The sights and smells were overwhelming – in a good way. The temptation to stop and shop became almost unbearable until I noticed a very familiar sign. My stomach rumbled, the lovely golden arches beckoned to me, and I knew I must answer the call.

"McDonalds!" Tina screeched, before I could beat her to it. "Omigod! We gotta go there _now_!"

The airline had served us a very light breakfast of coffee and blueberry scones with clotted cream, but now it was time to feed the beast. I couldn't believe our luck at finding exactly what we needed on the other side of the world. I'm sure Sachiko was horrified by our undignified rush, but with Melinda on our side, we'd already made a good enough first impression.

"So, Sachiko-san, where are you from?" I asked, after we settled in at one of the tables in the McDonald's restaurant. Thankfully, I remembered not to point my fries at her while I talked.

"Oh, I have lived in Tokyo most of my life, Ume-san," she replied. "My father is a career diplomat and he has worked for almost all of the English-speaking embassies here in Japan. When I was born, he was with the British Embassy, and when I was a teenager, he worked with the Australians. Now he is at the American Embassy. My parents live in an apartment in the Minato neighborhood, not too far from his office."

"That must be why your English is so good," Amanda remarked.

Sachiko bowed slightly and said, "Thank you for the compliment, Amanda-san. Yes, my parents were always studying English language tapes at home, so my brothers and I learned the language, too."

"Do you have a lot of brothers?" Melinda asked.

"Yes, three," Sachiko replied. "All of them married."

"Are you married?" Tina asked, barely remembering to swallow her food before she talked.

Melinda glared at Tina. Uh-oh. There were all kinds of things we weren't supposed to talk about in polite conversation here in Japan. We definitely weren't supposed to ask such personal questions as the marital status of a virtual stranger. Even in America, many of us hate the dreaded question Tina had just asked. Thank goodness Sachiko was a good sport.

"Yes, I am. For four years now," she replied, smiling shyly. "No children yet, much to my mother-in-law's dismay. All of my brothers have children already."

"Hey! That's something you and I have in common!" exclaimed Amanda. "I've only been married for two years and my mother-in-law keeps pestering me for grandchildren. I guess it's universal."

Sachiko blushed and changed the subject. "My husband, Ichiro, works in advertising for the Coca-Cola Company here in Tokyo. He hopes to meet you all while you're here. He has seen your _Babe!_ advertisements in a few magazines and he thinks you are brilliant."

Oh, this was getting better and better. "Wow! Coca-Cola!" I said, sounding impressed. "We'd love to meet him, too. I understand you are acquainted with my business partner's sister, Catherine. How did you meet?"

Sachiko smiled and said, "The company I work for assigned me to assist Wa-do-san when he visited here two years ago and they always request me when he returns."

"Wa-do-san? I thought Catherine's hubby's name was Marcus Ward," Tina said, her voice clearly identifying her as a true Jersey girl. "I just love the way you guys change our names."

Melinda jumped in to explain, "A lot of our names, like Stephanie's, are difficult to pronounce here, so they try to make a name sound as close as they can. There's no 'rd' sound in Japanese speech and no hard 'd' sound at the end of any Japanese words, either, so they might put in an extra syllable to make it sound right. You'll hear plenty not-quite-American-sounding words as we go along."

"This is true. Wa-do-san's wife asked me to please call her 'Kyasarin' which is close, but not quite. Ah, before I forget, may I please have a business card from each of you?" Sachiko asked. "I will have them remade into proper _meishi_ and have them back to you by your first official meeting on Monday."

We all rummaged through our purses and handed over our cards to her. Melinda then proceeded to tell us about the proper use of _meishi_, or business cards. Apparently, you're a real non-person if you fail to present your card – in English on one side and Japanese on the other side – to a business acquaintance. And you have to treat business cards as though they were true treasures, studying each one intently and not stuffing them into your purse or pocket right away. When Tina looked like she was ready to strangle Melinda, I interrupted her and asked Sachiko why our first meeting with the store representatives wasn't until Monday morning.

Sachiko answered, "We will be touring the various department stores today, tomorrow and Friday. Kyasarin-san informed me she thought it would be best if you saw the potential sites where your company might consider offering your products. Next week, you will meet with representatives of all the stores we plan to visit. We have a lot of territory to cover. Also, we thought it would be nice for you to have some time to go sightseeing this weekend. My sister-in-law, Reiko, will join us, if that is acceptable to you. Her English is almost better than mine because she used to work as a tour guide before she gave birth to my nephews and she knows everything about everything."

"That sounds reasonable, but will we have time to check in at our hotel before we start touring department stores?" I asked. After so many hours on an airplane, all I really wanted to do was take a shower and change my clothes. I'm sure the others wanted to do the same thing.

"Yes, of course. Our first tour will take place very close to your hotel in Shinjuku." As she replied, Sachiko handed each of us an itinerary and my eyes nearly fell out of my head when I realized how busy we would be for the next several days. This afternoon, Thursday and Friday were packed with store tours all over Tokyo and there were meetings scheduled all day on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, from eight o'clock in the morning until six o'clock in the evening. Saturday and Sunday were the only days we'd have any time to go sightseeing.

"Which hotel are we staying in?" Amanda had finished eating and now turned her undivided attention to the conversation. "Stevie, I mean, _Su-te-fa-ni-san_, wouldn't tell us. She kept it a secret."

Tina looked sheepish and admitted, "Um, I know where we're staying."

Melinda shrugged and said, "Me, too."

Amanda gasped and said, "That means you all lied to me. Grrr! You know how much I hate to be the last one to know! Oh, how could you guys do that?"

"We wanted it to be a surprise," I said. "We know how much you love that movie with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johanssen and…"

"Oh! Oh! Omigod!" Amanda began to flap her hands in front of her face and bounce up and down like a toddler. "It's the Park Hyatt, isn't it? Omigod! I can't believe it! _Omigod!_"

Sachiko looked alarmed at Amanda's now red face and teary eyes. According to Melinda, another no-no in the ultra-polite Japanese society is the dreaded public display of excess emotion. Our friend and co-worker was nearly hyperventilating with happiness. '_Lost in Translation_' was one of Amanda's favorite movies and the Park Hyatt Tokyo figured prominently in many scenes. Dawson worked some of his magic and made reservations for the four of us to share neighboring suites in the ultra-chic hotel. It promised to be an amazing stay and I was just as excited as Amanda, but I was glad she would be sharing her suite with Melinda.

We quickly finished our impromptu brunch and followed Sachiko to the baggage claim area. Since it had taken us so long to get there, our luggage had been set aside and we were able to retrieve all the bags without further delay. There was a large black car waiting for us and Sachiko ushered us into it and gave directions to the driver in rapid-fire Japanese. My happy stomach gave a little flutter of nervousness as the car pulled into the crowded traffic pattern. Our Tokyo trip was off to a very good start.

During the two-hour drive from Narita International Airport to Shinjuku, Tokyo's vibrant business and entertainment district, Sachiko told us that the hotel was actually a resort in the 52-story Shinjuku Park Tower. Sachiko pointed out various local sites and points of interest as we inched along in the heavy traffic. It was just like being in New York City, only more crowded. There was even a place called Times Square! We could hardly believe how many people walked across the streets every time the traffic stopped. It was worse than NYC on New Year's Eve.

Sachiko helped us with checking in at the serene 41st-floor-level lobby of the Park Hyatt Tokyo. Our rooms on the 47th floor were incredible, and so were the views outside our windows. Everything in the world-famous hotel was fabulous! After we stowed our luggage in our rooms, we all took quick showers and changed into clothes suitable for a shopping trip. Then we met Sachiko in the lobby and she led us over to Takashimaya Times Square and the colossal mall located there.

Again, there were thousands upon thousands of people everywhere. There were hundreds of stores, many with tall ceilings and multiple floors inside the mall itself. Sachiko explained a bit about the history of the various stores we would be visiting and she told us about the customs we would encounter. One of the first things we learned was that Japanese department stores are usually located in the city center or around large train stations, and many of them actually belong to the same parent company as the railway companies. Some of the major chains we would be touring for the next few days included Daimaru, Isetan, and Mitsukoshi. This afternoon, though, was all about Takashimaya.

Although Takashimaya wasn't one of the oldest department stores in Japan, it was seriously upscale and reminded me of Lord & Taylor or Nordstrom's back home. Of course, our main goal was to visit each store's lingerie department to see which brands of merchandise they already carried. As Sachiko had warned us, upon entering any store, friendly employees greeted us with extreme excitement. It nearly freaked out us Jersey girls. We were more accustomed to the quietly surly salespersons at our local Quaker Bridge Mall outside of Trenton. Also, there were "elevator girls," women who tended to the elevators and provided relevant information to customers as their elevators traveled through the different levels. They reminded me of the bell hops and porters Grandma Mazur used to tell stories about when I was little. Very impressive!

After we finished our educational tour of Takashimaya's many upper levels, Sachiko took us down to the lowest level where there was the equivalent of a massive food court. We knew we wanted to eat supper at one of the restaurants in our hotel, so we all chose to get steaming hot bowls of noodles as our snacks. We reminisced about the many days of eating ramen during our college years, even though the fresh noodles we were slurping up bore very little resemblance to the cheap versions we'd had back home. Sachiko reviewed our itinerary while we ate and she told us about the areas we would see the next day.

"Tomorrow we will travel around to some of the shopping districts on the subway system," she said. "First, we'll go over to Ikebukuro, which has several large department stores, including Tobu and Seibu, around its train station," she said. "Then we'll go to the Tokyo station to visit Daimaru and over to Nihonbashi to visit Mitsukoshi, one of Japan's oldest department stores. They just completed a merger with another powerful old store, Isetan, but all the locations are keeping their distinct names so far. Lastly, I think you'll really enjoy Ginza, which is Tokyo's and perhaps Japan's most famous upscale shopping district. Many exclusive boutiques are located there."

"Wow! What about Friday?" Tina asked. "I thought I saw someplace called Shibuya on the schedule."

Sachiko nodded. "Yes, Shibuya is closest to Shinjuku and it is considered a center for youth fashion and culture. Some of the business people you will meet next week probably will advise you to avoid placing your merchandise in that district, but I think you should at least see what is there and decide for yourselves. Of course, there is much more for you to see here in Shinjuku, as it has one of the busiest shopping areas due to its location at the world's busiest railway station. We will finish up here on Friday with visits to Isetan, Odakayu and Keio."

Amanda groaned, "I think this trip is going to give us a whole new definition of 'shop til you drop.' My feet hurt already just thinking about the next few days!"

"I wish we could visit a few other stores," Sachiko said. "But we will barely have time to investigate the stores whose representatives will meet with you next week. I think it may be very important for you to experience the differences between these stores so that you may make informed decisions. Some of the people who will be attending your meetings will not have anticipated that you would have any knowledge of their stores."

"Ah, the element of surprise," Melinda said. "I like it."

"Me, too," I nodded. "Thanks, Sachiko-san. Now I know why Dawson's sister recommended you. You're really savvy about all of this."

Our guide blushed and said, "Thank you so much."

Tina gazed around at the crowded eateries and asked, "Is it my imagination, or did twice as many people just cram their way in here?"

"It is not your imagination," Sachiko replied. "I believe you call it 'rush hour' and it has just begun. Many people will come directly here to eat before they go home. Perhaps we should go now, before it becomes even more crowded."

We pushed and shoved our way through the throngs of people and we made it back to our hotel within the hour. These crowds were not for the timid. Even though it was a regular workday here in Tokyo, for us it was like going to the shopping mall on the day after Thanksgiving. Good thing we all had plenty of experience with navigating crowds in both New Jersey and New York. Sachiko bid us a good night and promised to pick us up bright and early in the morning.

The first thing we did after we freshened up in our rooms was take our own little tour of the hotel. We explored as much as we could, from the top-level swimming pool and gardens down through the ballroom level and we peeked into the many restaurants and bars. Everything we saw was luxurious and extremely classy. Everywhere we went, Amanda pointed out where Bill Murray sat or what Scarlett Johanssen said during a particular scene in '_Lost in Translation_' until Tina threatened to strangle her if she mentioned the movie one more time.

Finally, many hours after we had first arrived in Japan, I lay soaking in the most fabulous hotel bathtub ever. After I took my bath, Tina took one, too, and then neither of us felt like going anywhere else, so we invited Melinda and Amanda over to our room and ordered room service. Sadly, pizza wasn't on the menu. Amazingly, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with milk _were_ on the kids' menu, so we requested several orders of those, along with a variety of Japanese beers for supper. We conducted our own taste test of all the beers and I thought the Kirin brand was the best. Naturally, Amanda said she liked the Suntory brand better. Suddenly, I wondered if Carlos had ever tried any of these exotic beers, which was a bad move, because it caused me to just think about Carlos, period. And then I got homesick.

There's a thirteen hour time difference between Japan and New Jersey. We finished our supper at nine o'clock in the evening – Tokyo time – and we figured out that it was now eight o'clock in the morning back home, so we could make our phone calls without waking anyone up too early. Amanda and Melinda returned to their room to call their families. Tina and I went to separate corners of our room to call home.

"Hi, Daddy," I said, when he answered at his end. "We made it to Japan just fine and everything's going great, so far. You wouldn't believe how huge the stores are over here." Then I told him about all of the day's events and the intensity of the schedule for the upcoming week. He told me he had put the phone on its speaker function and Blackie was whining for me whenever he heard my voice. By the end of the conversation, I felt so homesick, I could barely say goodbye. Despite my better judgment, I called my mother next, but she didn't answer, so I left a message. I decided to leave brief voicemail messages for Dawson, Valerie and Grandma Mazur. When I was finished, I felt completely exhausted.

Tina was in no better shape. "God, I miss Lester," she said as she closed her cell-phone and fell back onto her bed like a ragdoll. "No offense, Stevie-san, but the next time I stay in a hotel room, I want Lester to be my roommate."

"Ditto, Tina-_san,_" I said. We all had started adding the honorific to our names. "Well, what I mean is that I want _Carlos_ to be my roommate, not Lester. Lester's all yours. And you're my BFF and all, but this really sucks!"

"Hey!" Tina protested. "I'm not _that_ bad of a roomie. You coulda had Motor-mouth Melinda-san or star-struck Amanda-san instead of me. And then where would you be, huh?"

I sighed. "Okay, you're right. I guess I'm just tired. We've got a big day ahead of us, so we might as well head to bed right now."

Tina didn't argue.

**TBC**


	31. Chapter 31 Chapter 115

**CHAPTER 115**

_Stephanie's POV_

The next few days were a whirlwind as we bravely followed Sachiko onto the packed Tokyo Metro system and began to check off all the items on our very busy itinerary. Each train station had its own special atmosphere and every store had its own personality. There was one store, Uniqlo, which Tina absolutely fell in love with. It was a casual clothing store and our lingerie would never sell there, but it was fun to look around. The walls of the store stretched way up high and there were hundreds of shelves of shirts in every color of the rainbow. We all bought a shirt in our favorite colors. Mine was blue, an exact match to the color of my eyes. Although I've always loved to shop, I was relieved when Friday evening finally arrived. It was very tempting to cancel the sightseeing trips Sachiko had planned for us, but I knew she was looking forward to introducing us to her sister-in-law, as well as showing us some of her country's most treasured sites.

Saturday was a beautiful blue-sky day. We boarded one of the bullet trains to take us south to Kamakura to see the Great Buddha statue. Along the way, we saw lovely scenery. It was cherry blossom time in Japan and trees all across the countryside were showing off their pretty pink petals. We could see Mount Fuji in the distance. Sachiko's sister-in-law, Reiko, was one of the best tour guides I've ever had. She had a bubbly personality and her smile was infectious and she really did know everything about everything. Or at least she knew everything about the tourist attractions we saw that day.

"Do you work for a particular tourist agency?" Amanda asked. "I mean, you're so good at this, I imagine you must always be in demand."

Reiko laughed and shook her head. "Thank you for the compliment, Amanda-san. My sister-in-law told me that you all are very gracious and it is so. The answer to your question is no. I used to work for a travel agency in Shinjuku and I enjoyed almost everything about my old job, but I stay at home with my children now. When they are older, I might return to my old job, but I might not. My husband, Sachiko-san's brother, provides very well for our family."

"Is he the one at the Coca-Cola Company?" Tina asked.

"Yes, he is," she nodded and shared a gleeful grin with Sachiko. Obviously, they were very proud of him.

I turned away from the continuing conversation and stared out the window. I wondered about the circumstances of my future employment. Dawson said it wouldn't be a problem if I needed to take some time off when Carlos returned. And my wonderful business partner fully expected me to take an entire month off after my wedding. Of course, I already knew that when Carlos came home, he would have to serve out the rest of his time on active duty at a place called Fort Bragg, North Carolina. It was not exactly the fashion capitol of the world. Sure, I could telework, but I knew it wouldn't be the same as strolling through our beautiful office building every day.

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Tina was shaking me awake. I staggered off the train and allowed the beauty of the day, as well as our surroundings, to wake me up. After a vigorous walk through lovely gardens and along serene pathways, we arrived at the statue of the Great Buddha. There were a lot of tourists standing around with us and I had to shake my head as the same thing that happened when I was in London began to happen here. I saw Carlos! Gasping for air, I realized I _had_ to be hallucinating again. No way was my Superman really here in Japan.

"Stevie, what's wrong?" Tina asked. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

Suddenly, the "spell" was broken and I could see that our fellow tourist was just another Westerner with short brown hair and brown eyes. He really didn't look anything like Carlos. After biting down on my tongue to keep from screaming, I reminded Tina about my whacky daydreams from London. She simply patted my shoulder and assured me everything would be all right.

"Poor baby," she crooned. "I think the only reason I'm not hallucinating about my Lester is his stupid wig."

That made me laugh.

"Seriously," Tina said. "I'm not kidding. I know he looks like a Latino god under normal circumstances, but I have this crazy image of him as a blonde stuck in my head. As you may have noticed, there aren't many blondes around here, so there's no one to trigger the hallucinations."

"You're probably right, O wise Tina-san," I sighed. And we moved on to the next tourist attraction. Then I noticed something that had been getting on my nerves for a while.

"Stop hunching over," I whispered at Melinda for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Sorry," she replied as she walked next to me. "I can't help it. I just feel so tall here."

Sachiko and Reiko were negotiating an earlier return for us with the person at the ticket kiosk.

"Yeah, well, we're the same height, so relax," I said. "You told me we need to project an image of confidence here, as well as competence. And I'm telling you, right now, _none_ of us looks even remotely ready to take Tokyo by storm. So stand up straight, for cryin' out loud."

Melinda's eyes filled with tears and Tina and Amanda just stared at me in disbelief.

"What?" I asked; my voice was filled with irritation. "Why're you looking at me like that?" I glanced around at my friends' tired faces and wilted appearances. I knew I looked pretty ragged, too, especially after spending the past few days walking through several Japanese shopping districts. Now we were pushing beyond our limits with this tour of various attractions. Of course, my latest hallucination of Carlos hadn't helped matters at all.

"PMS much?" Tina whispered through gritted teeth. "Look, Stevie, we're all tired and feeling crappy, but you can't take out your frustrations on Melinda or Amanda or even me, for that matter. Pull yourself together before our guides get back over here, alright?"

My heart sank and I turned to Melinda to apologize, "I'm so sorry, Mel. I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay," Melinda mumbled. Then she rolled her shoulders back and stood up straighter anyway. "I forgive you. But you know Tina's right. We're all tired and cranky."

"Yeah," Tina added. "It'll be better after we get back to the hotel and take a break. Monday will be here before we know it and we can't go into those meetings all jacked up like this."

Amanda merely nodded her agreement. She was too tired for words.

Sachiko and Reiko were very sympathetic and understanding. When we arrived back in Shinjuku, Reiko led us over to a row of vending machines, which, by the way, were _everywhere_. Sachiko told us to pick out drinks and crunchy snacks and then they helped us to get whatever we wanted. I chose something that looked like my favorite cheese doodles and a canned plum wine drink. Everyone else chose something alcoholic, too. Then our guides beckoned us to follow them into a park filled with rows and rows of beautiful cherry trees in full bloom.

"No more touring today!" Reiko declared. "This is Shinjuku Gyoen National Gardens. We will have a little picnic here. Tomorrow, you must rest, if that is what you truly wish to do."

"Please accept our humble apologies," Sachiko said as she pulled a thin package out of her knapsack. It was one of those so-called space-age blankets – silver on one side and blue on the other. After she spread the blanket on the ground, there was enough room for all of us to sit down without getting dirt on our clothes.

"We simply did not realize how inconsiderate our plans for you were," Reiko said as she bowed low. "We are very sorry. Please forgive our thoughtlessness."

Now I felt like a total heel. These wonderful ladies were only trying to show us a good time here in their amazing country, and we – especially me – were acting like a bunch of little old ladies. Grandma Mazur would have been ashamed of me.

"No, no," I said. "It's not your fault. Both of you are the best guides ever. _We_ should have admitted to you last night how tired we were from looking at all the stores. It took way more energy than we thought."

After another round of apologies given and apologies accepted, everyone was smiling again. It might have had something to do with the canned liquor drinks we had all consumed. As a token of our appreciation and of our faith in them, we treated Sachiko and Reiko to a Western-styled meal at the Park Hyatt Hotel's New York Grill. We all enjoyed our food and then we humored Amanda and spent some time in the bar. Yes, it was the same bar where the main characters in "_Lost in Translation_" had some very poignant moments. The next day, Sunday, we all slept in.

. . .

"You are most talented, Ms. Plum, and we look forward to doing much good business with you in the days to come," Sachiko translated the words most recently spoken by the man sitting across from me, Hiroshi Tanaka.

This was our third day of meetings and everything seemed to be going very well. So far, we had met with five different groups, representing seven different department stores. We had just finished a highly successful meeting with Mr. Tanaka and his associates, a sister and brother team, Aiko and Takeru Midoriyama, who were the main buyers for a number of posh boutiques in the upscale Ginza shopping district. I knew Dawson would be ecstatic with our progress and I could hardly wait to call him. Books/Plum Designs and our _Babe!_ lingerie lines were definitely going to go world-wide in a powerful way. All I needed now was my own invisible airplane to fly to all the places I would need to go and then I'd really be like Wonder Woman. Carlos would be so proud of me! At that thought, I felt a pang of loneliness sweep over me.

While Amanda spent much of her time networking with other computer geeks, Melinda spoke to other marketing specialists. Tina assisted me with her copious notes about every department store and clothing boutique we had visited. Sachiko's instincts had proven to be correct. Many of the store representatives were surprised when I asked them very specific questions about their proposed ways of displaying the _Babe!_ line within their Women's or Lingerie departments. They understood that the only way I could know to ask certain questions was if I had been to their stores in person.

At our final meeting on Wednesday, which was very small, only two company representatives showed up, and one of them was an obviously unhappy person. This was unusual, because most of the Japanese people we had met – other than Sachiko and Reiko – seemed to be highly skilled at hiding their emotions. The woman's name was Tomoe Takahashi and she was the buyer for a very chic boutique in the Omotesando district. At first, I couldn't figure out what I might have done to earn her scornful looks, but then I realized her attention wasn't focused on me. Rather, she glared only at the other buyer in the room, who sat at the far end of the conference table. During a stretch break, I finally asked Sachiko if she knew what was going on between the woman and the man.

Sachiko nodded and whispered in my ear, "That man is Kazuhiro Watanabe. He represents part of the Takashimaya 'empire,' mostly in their overseas markets. Tomoe Takahashi's boutique tried to open a branch in New York City, but it is my understanding that Mr. Watanabe's company was instrumental in blocking that venture. There is no love lost between them."

"Actually, there is more truth to that statement than you could possibly know," said Kazuhiro Watanabe in a dry tone of voice, devoid of any discernible accent. He obviously had come within hearing range and had overheard Sachiko's comments. He was the tallest Japanese man I had seen so far, at least five feet and ten inches tall. Tina, Amanda and Melinda all turned away from what they had been doing and focused on the man. He noticed their attention and he seemed almost amused by it.

My interpreter blushed and bowed her head and apologized profusely. She was mortified at her breach of etiquette and I was afraid she might cry. Thankfully, he sounded very apologetic as he tried to reassure Sachiko.

"Don't worry about it, Sato-san," Mr. Watanabe said. "It _is_ part of your job to make sure Ms. Plum understands who all of the players are in this little game everyone is playing. Isn't that right, Double T.?" He addressed the angry woman over his shoulder and her eyes shot virtual daggers at him.

Mr. Watanabe extended his hand toward me and said, "Hi, I'm Kazuhiro Watanabe, UCLA grad in international business, as well as Harvard Business School, but my friends just call me Kaz. As stated, I'm the primary buyer for Takashimaya of New York City. You've already met my cousin, Akira Kawasaki, who barely made it through Tokyo University."

Aha! Now I understood the man's Americanized accent. It sounded as though he had spent quite a lot of time on our side of the globe. Part of me wanted to dislike Kaz Watanabe for his arrogant behavior, but he was too darned cute. I think he knew it, too.

"Oh, yes," I said as I shook his hand in the Western style. "I remember Kawasaki-san. He's kind of short, wears wire-rimmed glasses a lot like the ones you have on."

Kaz grinned and dimples appeared in his cheeks. "He's also not very nice, he's going bald and he's fat. But that doesn't matter because he is the 'anointed one' whereas I am the 'red-headed stepchild' in our family."

I briefly glanced at Melinda, who had narrowed her eyes at Kaz after his comment. She was not amused. Kaz Watanabe seemed not to care that he was alienating the women in the room, one by one.

"Here's the thing, Ms. Plum," Kaz said. "Everyone and their brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles want a piece of the action when it comes to bringing your _Babe!_ line to Asia. _Some_ people would like for their deals to be exclusive, like my friend Double T. over there. But if you allow that to happen, it would be disastrous for everyone."

Now Ms. Takahashi came over to where Kaz and I were standing and she said, "Don't believe everything this pompous ass tells you, Ms. Plum. _If_ this is a game, as he says, and _if_ he decides to play, which he often doesn't, _Kaz_ will play only for himself." Then she stuck out her hand for me to shake and said, "Obviously, I'm Tomoe Takahashi – not 'Double T.' – and I represent Momo, the best little boutique you've ever visited. I also graduated from UCLA with a business degree; however, my father thought he needed me to help him here in Japan more than he needed to send me to Harvard." Her accent sounded just as American as Kaz's.

"But she's not bitter. No, not at all," Kaz interjected.

"My father tried to expand our business into the American market," Tomoe continued as though Kaz hadn't spoken. "Unfortunately for us, the bloated behemoth, Takashimaya, prevented us from opening a competitive shop in the Big Apple. So much for equality and justice for all."

"That's _liberty_ and justice for all, Double T.," Kaz said derisively. "I realize liberty is a difficult concept for you to grasp, but why don't you give it a try? Just forget about the betrothal. I already have. And I'm enjoying my liberty. You should, too."

"I realize this is very un-Japanese behavior and I apologize for my and my colleague's rudeness," Tomoe bowed and addressed Sachiko. Then she turned to me and said, "In case you haven't already figured it out, once upon a time, Kazuhiro and I were betrothed to be married. That is no longer the case. However, the end of our betrothal also meant the end of a long-negotiated financial backing agreement. The loss of that foothold in the American market nearly killed my father. And now, after almost two years of zero contact from this man I almost married, I come here today and have to share airspace with the last person I care to see."

"It wasn't my fault, Tomoe," Kaz said emphatically. "My uncle was double-dealing and it backfired on him. I witnessed the entire debacle, so he sent me back to America. That's what he always does, he sends me away. I remind him of his failures. I remind him that I, the worthless half-breed son of his worthless sister, have accomplished more in my life so far than his precious son, Akira, ever will. Even when I was just a kid and I saw my uncle cheating on his wife, he sent me away to help his cousin in Okinawa sell T-shirts to the American G.I.s there. It's almost funny how much success I achieve whenever he sends me away. Honestly, Tomoe, that mess in New York had nothing to do with you and your father, but even if it did, you and I never would have worked out anyway."

"How do you know?" Tomoe practically spat at him. "You never even _tried_ to give us a chance!"

"You don't love me," Kaz said matter-of-factly. "And I don't love you. That's why it wouldn't have worked. It's as simple as that. I'm just sorry you got hurt."

All of us were frozen in stunned silence as we watched this couple air their dirty laundry in a most un-Japanese, very dramatic American-style display of disaffection. I could tell that Sachiko had no idea how to bring everyone back to the conference table to finish discussing the business at hand. Luckily for all of us, between my family and Carlos' family, I've had plenty of experience handling these types of "dogfights."

I cleared my throat and said, "Why don't we all sit down at the table and discuss the topics we came here to discuss? You two clearly have history between you, which really has nothing to do with Books/Plum Designs. Perhaps you can continue your discussion in a more private setting after this meeting has concluded."

"I'm sorry, but I can't stay here any longer." Tomoe glanced at me and then at Kaz one more time and then she gathered her papers, bowed toward me and left the room. Everyone who was still in the room sat down around the table and then all eyes turned toward Kaz, who merely blinked back at us. Apparently, he was waiting for me and my team to make the next move. It was Melinda who spoke first.

"Did you say you used to sell T-shirts on Okinawa?" she asked.

Kaz seemed taken aback by the question, but he answered, "Yes, I did. But that was a long time ago. I was maybe fifteen or sixteen years old at the time. Why do you ask?"

"Omigod!" Tina gasped. "He's your 'T-shirt Boy,' isn't he, Mel?"

Melinda's face blushed a deep shade of red as she continued to gaze at Kaz's face. "Maybe," she whispered.

Kaz cocked his head to the side and returned Melinda's scrutiny. Then his eyes widened and he pushed back from the table. "Wait a minute! Did you used to live in Okinawa about ten or twelve years ago, too?"

"Just for one summer," Melinda admitted. "My uncle was stationed there."

"You used to come into my family's store and stare at me," Kaz murmured. "My cousins used to tease me about the mute American girl with the funny-colored hair. You never said anything to anybody. I couldn't figure out what the deal was, but then you just … stopped showing up."

Melinda shrugged. "I didn't know the language. Besides, I was only there to help my aunt with her new baby. I had to return to the States before school started."

"Whoa," he whispered.

"Yeah, whoa," Melinda agreed.

"Did you ever go back?" he asked.

Melinda shook her head.

"But you _did_ learn Japanese," Kaz said. "I heard you talking to those other marketing guys when I came in. You're pretty good."

"Thanks."

"You know what?" Kaz said. "We ought to get out of here and go someplace where we can talk. Really talk."

Melinda looked down at her hands on the table. "Um, I don't think that's…"

Suddenly, Kaz gazed around the table as though he was just remembering that the rest of us were present, too. "Oh, right. What about dinner, then? Followed by karaoke? Everyone could join us. We wouldn't be alone."

Melinda glanced at me and I shrugged. Then she nodded at Kaz and he smiled. Whoa, indeed.

. . .

Melinda sat on the edge of Tina's bed and stared out at nothing. Tina and I continued to pack our suitcases. This had been a highly successful trip, and it was time to go home. We had scheduled follow-up meetings and contract signings for the following month. This would give everyone's legal departments an opportunity to review all the documents. On the superb advice of Kazuhiro Watanabe, we decided to meet in Hawaii for the next round of meetings. Dawson had already approved of the set-up and he'd informed me that Rosa would accompany us to these meetings. As nice as our visit to Japan had been, I was ready to sleep in my own bed, drive my own car, and be with the people – and doggie and hamster – I loved and missed so very much.

"Mel, honey, are you all packed up and ready to go?" Tina asked.

Melinda nodded and said, "I'm all packed, but I'm not quite ready to go. Wasn't last night just the greatest time of all?"

Tina exchanged glances with me and I said, "Well, you and Kaz certainly did seem to hit it off."

"Yeah, and that whole long-lost love thing between you two is really cute," Tina added.

"Oh! Do you really think it's love?" Melinda asked. "I mean, I can hardly believe it myself. After all these years, 'T-shirt Boy' and I finally found each other at a meeting to discuss potential lingerie sales."

"At least you now know his name," Tina quipped.

"But now I have to leave him. My Kaz," she whispered. And a hiccup escaped her lips before silent tears streamed down her face.

This time, Tina and I exchanged worried glances.

"Um, isn't Kaz going back to New York?" Tina asked. "Doesn't he work out of his family's 5th Avenue store? C'mon, Mel. NYC is just a ferry ride away. You'll be together again in no time."

Melinda shook her head and more tears streamed down her face. "I didn't get his address or his phone number last night. We were having so much fun at the karaoke place, I forgot."

It was true. After that debacle of a meeting where we all discovered that both Melinda and Kaz had carried the proverbial torch for each other throughout the years, we all had gone back to our hotel rooms to freshen up. After dinner, Sachiko and her husband joined me and Tina and Amanda and Melinda and Kaz at a karaoke establishment. I made everyone laugh by singing the traditional version of "Take This Job and Shove It." Sachiko and Ichiro were cute, singing Elton John's "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart." But it was beyond sweet to hear Kaz sing The Four Seasons' "My Eyes Adored You" to a stunned Melinda.

_My eyes adored you  
>Though I never laid a hand on you<br>My eyes adored you  
>Like a million miles away<br>From me you couldn't see  
>How I adored you<br>So close, so close  
>And yet so far away<em>

_Carried your books from school_  
><em>Playing make-believe you're married to me<em>  
><em>You were fifth grade, I was sixth<em>  
><em>When we came to be<em>

_Walking home every day over_  
><em>Barnegat Bridge and Bay<em>  
><em>Till we grew into the me and you<em>  
><em>Who went our separate ways<em>

_My eyes adored you_  
><em>Though I never laid a hand on you<em>  
><em>My eyes adored you<em>  
><em>Like a million miles away<em>  
><em>From me you couldn't see<em>  
><em>How I adored you<em>  
><em>So close, so close<em>  
><em>And yet so far<em>

_Headed for city lights_  
><em>Climbed the ladder up<em>  
><em>to fortune and fame<em>  
><em>I worked my fingers to the bone<em>  
><em>Made myself a name<em>

_Funny, I seem to find that_  
><em>no matter how the years unwind<em>  
><em>Still I reminisce about the girl I miss<em>  
><em>And the love I left behind<em>

_My eyes adored you_  
><em>Though I never laid a hand on you<em>  
><em>My eyes adored you<em>  
><em>Like a million miles away<em>  
><em>From me you couldn't see<em>  
><em>How I adored you<em>  
><em>So close, so close<em>  
><em>And yet so far<em>

_All my life I will remember_  
><em>How warm and tender<em>  
><em>We were way back then<em>  
><em>Though I'm feeling sad regrets<em>  
><em>I know I won't ever forget<em>  
><em>You, my childhood friend<em>

_My eyes adored you_  
><em>Though I never laid a hand on you<em>  
><em>My eyes adored you<em>  
><em>Like a million miles away<em>  
><em>From me you couldn't see<em>  
><em>How I adored you<em>  
><em>So close, so close<em>  
><em>And yet so far<em>

Poor tone-deaf Melinda had to consume quite a bit of alcohol before she was ready to sing her heart out in front of the group. Kaz just gazed longingly at her while she struggled through Roberta Flack's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face."

_The first time ever I saw your face  
>I thought the sun rose in your eyes<br>And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave  
>To the dark and the end of the skies<em>

_And the first time ever I kissed your mouth_  
><em>I felt the earth move in my hand<em>  
><em>Like the trembling heart of a captive bird<em>  
><em>That was there at my command, my love<em>

_And the first time ever I lay with you_  
><em>I felt your heart so close to mine<em>  
><em>And I knew our joy would fill the earth<em>  
><em>And last, till the end of time, my love<em>

_The first time ever I saw your face_  
><em>Your face<em>  
><em>Your face<em>  
><em>Your face<em>

Yes, it had been a crazy, cool, and quirky kind of night. And now it was time to go. Sachiko would be at the hotel any minute to escort us to the airport. I, for one, knew I'd end up sleeping most of the way home.

"No problem," I assured Melinda as I sat on my suitcase to squeeze it shut. "I know we can find the Takashimaya Store on 5th Avenue. Please don't worry about this. It's almost time to go, though. Are you sure you're ready?"

Amanda knocked on our door. Melinda slid off of Tina's bed to open it. Only it wasn't Amanda. It was Kaz. I gently pushed Melinda out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Then I called Amanda and told her what was happening. She and Tina and I finished packing and checked our rooms to make sure we hadn't left anything behind. Then we toted our luggage out into the hallway, where Melinda and Kaz were still locked in a pretty steamy embrace. Although we barely made it to the airport on time, the new couple did manage to exchange phone numbers and home address information.

Twenty hours later, we arrived at Newark Liberty International Airport. Home, sweet home.

**TBC**

_AN: We have put up some pictures of the girls' trip to Japan on Flickr. The link is on our profile page. If you only want to see the newest pics, select _Set: Chapter 114-115_. We included several pics of Japan and of Melinda and her "t-shirt boy" Kaz. Enjoy! And yes…next week is the week you've been waiting for – Carlos and Stephanie reunite! _


	32. Chapter 32 Chapter 116

_AN: To help everyone affected by Hurricane Sandy take your mind off the weather and its aftermath, we decided to post this chapter a little early. We hope you enjoy it! _

**CHAPTER 116**

_Stephanie's POV_

Well, it finally happened! I officially lost my mind four days after I returned from Japan. Getting my period as soon as we landed back in the States might have had something to do with it, but my weird mood was more than just a bad bout of PMS. I felt like I was on pins and needles, waiting for something big to happen. Thankfully, my father knew how to make an excellent cup of hot cocoa or else things would have gotten ugly. But then, even though I knew I should have stayed far away from here, my crazy self took over and here I was, parked in front of the place that held so many of my treasured memories.

The hotel looked the same as it had six months ago, when I was here for Stella's wedding. Only now, it held an entirely new meaning for me. This was where I'd met Carlos, where I fell in love with the man who now holds my heart, my soul.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I knew I was just setting myself up for a major cry fest. But when Mateo stopped by my office early this Monday morning and handed me a letter from Carlos and another one of those distinctive little jewelry boxes, I knew what the box would hold. Well, not specifically, but I knew it was something from Carlos to remind me of our "date" a year from today, April 6. And I made a spur of the moment decision to spend the day in Room 407, reminiscing. Well, okay, wallowing in self-pity.

While I was driving over, I figured I might have a hard time going in to the hotel and now that I was here, I _knew _I would. I had thought that the next time I'd go through those lobby doors I'd be skipping with joy, maybe running all the way to Room 407. I could just imagine that long anticipated day, my stomach would be doing flip flops wondering if Carlos was already here or if I was the first to arrive.

But today, I knew that I'd be going up to an empty room… to do what? Get all maudlin, throw myself a pity party? Cry my eyes out because I still had to endure a whole freaking year alone without my Superman. Another entire year without hearing his deep sexy voice whispering Spanish words of lust and love to me, or feeling his hard muscled body pressed against mine.

_Why am I doing this to myself? _

Because I need it, dammit! I need to feel close to Carlos on this day… this day we plan to meet and begin our life together ONE YEAR FROM NOW. I can't get that awful timeframe out of my head. I _can't_ be without him for another year. _I can't do it!_

After hitting my head on the steering wheel a few times, I lifted my head back up. Shaking my head, I knew that I would endure it. _I had to._ Carlos needed me to stay strong. And I needed him to be proud of me when he finally came home. I had to continue moving forward with my head held high and a smile on my face, even if my heart was breaking. But today, I needed to wallow. I needed to immerse myself in my memories of Carlos and let my pent up tears and frustrations, _and need_, out. And boy, was my _need_ strong.

But first, I had to meet with Tank. He'd called right after Mateo had left my office and before I'd even had a chance to open Carlos' latest gift to me. Tank told me he was in town and had news of Carlos, but that he needed to tell me the news in person. My heart nearly stopped beating and I gasped. That didn't sound good, but Tank rushed to reassure me that Carlos was okay. I suggested we meet in the bar at the Hilton Hotel in Newark, since I planned to be at the hotel anyway.

All that had led me here, sitting outside the hotel in my lovely silver Porsche, so different from the POS Nova I drove here in October. That was six months ago! How my life had changed. And all for the better. And all because of the night _that never happened_.

The only thing I had with me today that was from Carlos, besides my Porsche, was my charm bracelet and the opal ring he'd given me the night we went to _Rosa's_ for dinner and dancing, _and met his cousin, father and brother_. Only back then, I thought I was meeting 'friends' of the family. That Sunday night was the night the deception started. THAT was the night that should _never have happened_. But I was too miserable today to be angry with Mateo or Carlos or even his father.

With a deep sigh, I twirled my charm bracelet, remembering the wonderful fantasies each little charm represented. And that reminded me of my newest charm.

The little jewelry box Mateo had given me this morning was in my purse. In the excitement of my impromptu trip to the Newark Hilton Hotel and another meeting with Tank, I'd forgotten to open it. What treasure had Carlos chosen to commemorate this date?

I took a deep breath and opened the box. I'm sure a look of puzzlement crossed my face. Inside was a small 18 kt gold square that was covered in numbers. A closer look revealed it was a miniature calendar of April 2010. There was a bright red heart over the number 6, which in 2010 would be a Tuesday. And down in the lower right corner were the words "It will Happen!"

A huge smile split my face. The thought of _'this never happened'_ now changing to _'it will happen'_ made me giggle. It was Carlos' way of helping me stay positive. He didn't miss an opportunity to let me know how much he loved me. It was like being constantly courted for the 18 months he'd be gone and being reassured of his love every single day. I still had a new love letter from him, but I wanted to wait to read it until I got up to the room.

And now, I was finally ready to go in. First the meeting with Tank, and then to room 407, where I could read Carlos' letter and cry my eyes out for a few hours.

As I made a U-turn so I could park in the underground garage of the hotel, I noticed a man on the sidewalk. There was something familiar about him, something that made my heart skip a beat. He turned down the alley next to the hotel and my heart did a double flutter. _It was Carlos!_ _Wasn't it?_

I slammed on the brakes and started to back the car up to get a closer look. The man I'd seen was wearing mirrored shades, torn jeans, white t-shirt and a ball cap pulled down low, but I knew it was him. He had Carlos' distinctive stride. Before I could back up enough to see down the alley, the blaring horn from the car behind me shocked me back to sanity.

_Of course it wasn't Carlos_; he was still overseas risking his life for our freedom. I'd done this to myself before, missing my man so much I imagined seeing him everywhere. That frustrating episode of hallucinations had nearly ruined my trip to London and made me feel crazy in Japan. Chagrin and disappointment coursed through me as I pulled forward and turned into the underground parking garage. A few tears leaked out as I parked the car and got my breathing back under control. Maybe it _was_ him? _No,_ _Steph, get a grip! Face it. You want to see Carlos so badly that you're letting yourself see things that aren't there, just like you did when you were overseas. I swear, if the hotel desk clerk looks like Carlos, I'm turning around and heading for home where I plan to crawl into bed and stay there for the entire next year. _

I entered the hotel lobby and glanced at the desk clerk who was busily talking on the phone. A huge sigh of relief escaped my lungs. He looked a little like a young Ronald Reagan, nothing like my Carlos. Smiling, I made my way to the lounge, eager to meet with Tank and find out what news he had to share about Carlos. I didn't see Tank, with or without his disguise, so I sat at the bar and got something to drink while I waited for him. It was barely nine o'clock, so I ordered a mocha latte, which reminded me of the chocolate martinis I'd had the last time I was here. The lounge was sunny and quiet, so different from the dark noisy bar I remembered the night of Stella's miserable bachelorette party. But this was the place I'd first met Carlos. I laughed to myself over my clumsy attempts at flirtation and seduction. But it had gotten me my man!

After several minutes of sitting alone and sipping my coffee, I heard my name being paged with a request to come to the front desk. Leaving the bar, I walked across the lobby to the reservation counter and told the young Ronald Reagan look-alike that I was Ms. Plum. The desk clerk told me the gentleman I was waiting for had called and said he'd be delayed an hour or so. Then the desk clerk handed me an envelope containing a key card and informed me the room was mine to use while I waited. I looked at the number written on the envelope – 409. So close! I asked if I could have room 407 instead.

He looked at his computer screen and told me, "I'm sorry, Ms. Plum, but that room is already occupied. Would you like a room on another floor?"

My heart fell. I really wanted to be in the same room where Carlos and I had made so many wonderful memories. It was disappointing, to put it mildly. I thought about asking for the room Carlos had on the 8th floor, which had been the site of our last few fantastic fantasies, but 409 was just next door to the one I really wanted. I kicked myself for not calling ahead and making a reservation. I was too impulsive sometimes.

"Thank you, but no. I'll just use the room you gave me," I said and then walked through the lobby to the elevators.

While the elevator made its way to the fourth floor, I debated whether to read Carlos' letter while I waited for Tank. If I read it, I knew I'd cry and look like a puffed up clown with a red nose, but I didn't think I could hold off a whole hour without knowing what it said. Oh well, Tank would understand. I walked down the hall and stopped in front of room 407 and longingly placed my hand on the door, heaving a big sigh.

Upon entering 409, I closed the door and looked around the room: a king-sized bed, two nightstands, a dresser with a TV on top, a pair of leather wing-backed chairs, and a small desk with a wooden chair. There was a locked suite door between my room and the room next door. Room 409 looked identical to how I remembered 407, and it was probably the same as all the hotel rooms here.

I flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I called it my thinking position. My first thought was, _'What did Tank have to tell me?'_ He'd said Carlos was okay, but that didn't mean the news was necessarily good news. Maybe the mission was being extended and Carlos would be away for _more than a year_? Maybe Carlos had been injured? No, I wasn't going to even think about that. Think positive: maybe Carlos had been successful in his mission and would be home soon? That would be too much to hope for. _Tank, get here soon before I go crazy imagining all sort of things._

Lying on top of the bed brought back memories of another bed, the same bed that was in the room just next door. An ache started in my groin, a real ache, not the pretend ache I'd faked during our 'doctor/patient' fantasy. Grabbing one of the pillows off the bed I pressed it between my legs, trying to alleviate the throbbing. I couldn't believe how much I _needed_ Carlos right now.

Damn! It just wasn't fair! We'd had such a brief time together, though the time we had had been glorious. _Hot, steamy and sexy_. And filled with love. _We are still so young and in love and we should be together._ _Damn, damn, damn_.

The ache was becoming an actual physical pain. I pulled the pillow tight against my crotch, knowing that soon I'd have to do something to take care of that ache. I pounded my fists against the pillow, getting angrier and angrier at our hopeless situation. If it was this bad for me, how was Carlos handling it? He's a man, an extremely virile hot-blooded Cuban man, and men need sex. Fuck! I'm a woman and _I _need sex. _I need my man_.

I turned over on my side and groaned, tears of anger… of need… and of despair rolling down my cheeks, and felt a hard lump under my side that distracted me from my much needed emotional venting. I pulled the lump out from under me… ah, my purse.

Well, at least I had something of Carlos' that I knew would make me happy. His letter. I might cry while I read it, but they would be happy tears as I read his words of love to me. I sat up and dropped my purse on my lap, and pulled out the letter Mateo had given me earlier. The envelope was the same as all the other letters; it had my name written across it in Carlos' distinctive bold script. I ran my fingers over my name and then took out the letter inside. With a deep sigh, I began to read.

_Dearest Babe-_

_I know today will be a difficult day for you. You will be thinking of our promise to meet on this day a year from now and you will wonder how you can last that long without me. I know that's how you feel, because that is exactly how I feel, too. _

_A part of me feels guilty for being responsible for the unbearable pain you are going through right now, but then I remember how your love saved me and I know I wouldn't change a thing about how we met. I do wish, however, I could change the fact that I had to go on this mission so soon after us falling in love. I would do anything to take your pain away, except for wishing that __we__ had never happened. That I will never wish to change. Something happened to both of us that night that changed us forever. We became one and that is why it is so hard for us to be apart. But you are Wonder Woman and I am Superman, and we are strong enough to find a way to get through this next year._

_I long to hold you in my arms again, bury my nose in your wild curls and feel your soft body pressed against mine. I can taste you on my lips and smell your sweet fragrance. I can even hear your laughter and your sexy voice begging me for another Doomsday Orgasm. I can't wait to be able to give you everything you desire every day of our lives._

_I would be lost without all my memories of our night together. We lived a lifetime in that one night. It is the only thing that keeps me going, gives me strength to continue on until the day you are in my arms again. I live for that day, Babe, until April 6, 2010. _

_On that day, I will be in room 407 waiting for you and I'll know the moment you arrive. I'll fling open the door and you'll throw yourself into my arms, our lips locked together in a searing kiss that threatens to set us on fire. I won't let you out of my arms for an entire week, maybe longer. And, I will never be apart from you again. _

_Hold on, Stephanie. Keep our memories alive in your mind and in your heart, and soon, we will be together again. I promise. _

_Yours, always and forever,_

_Carlos_

With tears streaming down my face, I lay back on the bed and held Carlos' letter against my heart. He was right, the pain I felt seemed unbearable. Right now, I didn't want to be strong, I didn't want to be Wonder Woman. I wanted to break down and cry… cry until I had no more tears left to shed. I wanted to give in to my weakness and kick and scream about how unfair life was. _I wanted my Carlos!_

I was rudely jarred out of my pity fest by a loud rap on the door. _That had to be Tank._ I dragged myself off the bed and ran into the bathroom to wash my face. The cold water helped shrink the puffy bags under my eyes. There was another loud rap on the door. I opened the door, but there was no one standing outside or even walking down the hallway. And then I heard a sound behind me. It sounded like a stuck door being unjammed and I whirled around to see the suite door between mine and 407 opening.

A man's head poked around the now open door and my feet buckled under me. The man looked just like Carlos! _Not again!_ Unable to stop myself from trembling, I dropped to my knees and the man rushed toward me. Panic took over.

I threw my arm up, palm out, and babbled, "Don't touch me! Don't come near me! _How DARE you come into my room? _How did you get in here? Why isn't that door locked?_" _

I blinked hard, hoping when I opened them again, I would see another man, any man but Carlos. I looked back up and the man, dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, was standing just a few feet from me. He _still_ looked just like Carlos. I continued to rant_,_ "Who the hell are you? Why do you look like my fiancé? _Omigod, I think I'm going crazy_. I can't believe this is happening _again_. I saw you, I mean, I saw Carlos everywhere, in every man's face. It nearly drove me batty. _Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!_"

**TBC**


	33. Chapter 33 Chapter 117

**CHAPTER 117**

_Carlos' POV_

She was on her knees, her arms wrapped around her abdomen as she rocked back and forth. Whenever I moved closer… wanting… _aching_ to comfort her, she screamed louder, a wild look flashing in her eyes. What could have driven my Babe to this terrible emotional collapse?

Every day for the last six months, I'd been dreaming of this moment, this moment when we would be together again. I'd imagined her running into my arms, her soft lips pressed against mine, urgent and demanding. I ached to feel her body pressed against mine, running my hands over her back, down to her ass and pulling her tighter into me, trying to become one. _¡Dios!_

And then, I finally make it home from Iraq in one piece, a whole year early, ready to begin my life with Stephanie only to find she was not just out of town, she was halfway around the world in Japan. Part of me was frustrated beyond all reason at the delay of our reunion and the other part of me was proud of my Babe for taking the world by storm. But regardless, it had been pure hell waiting for her to get back.

Now, we were finally together and she was only a few feet away from me and I couldn't get near her, not without her screaming and crying uncontrollably. She was talking so fast it was hard to understand her, but it was obvious she didn't believe I was really here, that it was really me. She kept saying something about 'why did I look like Carlos?' and 'why was it happening _again_?'

I didn't know what to do to reassure her it _was_ me, without her becoming even more hysterical. I slowly lowered myself into one of the leather wing-backed chairs in the room, hoping she would calm down and come to her senses. My body was on high alert, partly because of the tension of the ongoing mission and the need to remain undercover, but mainly because I needed my Babe. I _needed_ to hold her in my arms, I _needed_ to kiss her and feel her kiss me back. It was agony to be in the same room with her and not have our bodies touch, not be able to reach out to her.

Time! We needed a little time. Stephanie just needed time to compose herself, to realize it was me, and not some mirage. How many times had I imagined Stephanie in an Iraqi desert mirage? Too many to count. I needed to be patient.

"Babe?" I called softly to her. She was still staring at the floor, rocking back and forth, and muttering to herself.

At the sound of my voice, she looked up. Her blue eyes locked on me, her mouth slightly open, and we stared at one another for an interminably long moment. Then she slammed her eyes shut and a low keening moan sounded from deep within her. I could barely make out what she was mumbling to herself, _"It's not him. It's not really him. It just looks like him. Omigod! Omigod! Omigod!" _She continued to rock back and forth, head down, eyes shut.

Unable to bear her obvious agony any longer, I rushed to her, dropping to my knees, and reached out to take her in my arms. Her eyes flew open, she screamed and then she rapidly scooted backward on her butt until her back was up against the wall. She yanked the desk chair in front of her blocking my attempts to comfort her. All the while, she was shouting at me to _'stay away'_ and _'get out of my room'_. I could see she was hysterical and doubting her own eyes, so I backed away and returned to the chair. I couldn't believe this was happening. This was not the reunion I'd anticipated and I had no idea how to reach my Babe or why she was in such a frantic state.

"Stephanie," I tried to reach her again with my voice, "it's me, Carlos. I'm really here. I'm not a hallucination. I'm real."

She peeked around the chair legs and looked me up and down, finally fixating on my face. I kept my voice low and calm, "Babe, remember when we first met? It was downstairs, in the bar, six months ago. You were at a bachelorette party and I was looking for someone to spend the night with. I saw you sashay your fine ass across the lounge and you were so sexy in that tight red dress that hugged every delicious curve of your smokin' hot body – I knew I had to have you."

She was listening to me and I could tell that I was making headway, but still it surprised me when she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, "You look like Carlos, but so did all those others." She looked away, "I'm not crazy, I'm not."

"Of course you aren't crazy. It's just the shock of seeing me. You weren't prepared and I took you by surprise. But it is me, querida. I'm really Carlos."

She shook her head. "Carlos isn't here. He's away on a … he's not in the United States."

I couldn't help but smile. Even in her panic, she was protecting me and the fact that I was on a secret mission. Good girl!

"I _was_ out of the country, but I'm home now. I'm still on my mission, but it's led me back to the States." My hands kept clenching into fists as I tried to still myself. I just wanted to go to her, to hold her in my arms once again, but she wasn't ready for me… not yet. I exhaled loudly and she jumped a little, retreating further down the wall.

I lowered my voice, hoping to soothe her, "Look at me, Babe. _Please_. It really is me. You aren't imagining things. I've only been back a short while. Tank called you, didn't he? He set this meeting up for us. I can't go into any detail, but no one can know I'm here. My life and that of several others depend on me remaining hidden and incognito. Do you understand that?"

I didn't get a nod, but the wild look in her eyes receded. "I'm still on my mission, but I had to see you. I couldn't be this close to you and not come to you, if only for a few hours." My hands started to hurt and I looked down and saw a thin trail of blood running down my palms from where my fingernails had dug into my skin. If only I could hold her. I rubbed my hands on my jeans and looked back across the room to Stephanie.

"We only have a few hours, Babe." I could hear the pleading in my voice and was disgusted with myself for being so selfish. She needed me to be patient with her, until she could wrap her mind around the fact that I was really here. And I… I needed her the way I'd needed her every night for the last 182 nights. I felt like a starving man sitting across from a table filled with the most delectable food and being forced to pretend I wasn't famished. Every nerve ending in my body was coiled so tightly I was literally trembling with the need for her. I forced myself to take several deep breaths.

"Stephanie, do you remember our time together in this room? Well, actually in that room," I tilted my head toward the suite door I'd walked through just a few moments ago. "We shared so much that weekend. You changed me, Babe, in the few short hours we had together, you made me fall in love with you. You made me believe that we had a future together. My love for you is what made the last six months bearable. And I want that future, that future with you, Stephanie."

I was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, my knuckles were white and I had such an intense hard-on, it threatened to break the zipper on my jeans. I needed something more to anchor me in the here and now. I dug my fingernails into the flesh of my palms again, hoping the pain would enable me to focus on the needs of the frightened woman crouched in the corner across from me. This was my woman and she needed me to be patient with her. But it had been six long months. Six months away from her and every night she was the only thought filling my head until I couldn't stand it any longer. I thought I'd go crazy with needing her. Obviously, Stephanie had felt that same longing for me. And now that we were together, we were still forced to be apart and the waiting was taking its toll on me. But Stephanie needed me to be in control and to talk her through whatever she was going through. I could tell I was making progress and she was still listening. She was hearing my words.

Unthinking, I began talking to her in Spanish, pouring out my heart and soul to her. "Te amo, mi amante. Te amo tanto me duele. Te necesito. Es solo tú y yo. No hay ninguna necesidad de estar asustados. Quiero abrazarte tanto y sentir su cuerpo contra el mío. Largo a la ducha besos hacia abajo sobre vosotros y hacer amar a tú. Por favor escuche mis palabras, escuchar el amor que tengo en mi corazón para tú. Por favor creen que soy yo. Te necesito tanto, querida. [_I love you, my love. I love you so much it hurts. I need you. It is just you and me. There is no need to be frightened. I want to hold you so much and feel your body against mine. I long to shower kisses down upon you and make love to you. Please hear my words, hear the love I hold in my heart for you. Please believe it is me. I need you, querida.]_

The chair she'd been holding in front of her slowly moved to the side. I could now see all of her. Her knees were drawn up against her chest and she looked so small and lost. I longed to go to her, but didn't want to scare her any more than I already had. I waited for any sign of recognition from her. She was staring at me, searching every inch of my face. Her breath was coming quicker and quicker and her eyes widened.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. I had to keep a death grip on the arms of the chair or I was afraid I would rush her and sweep her into my arms. If I did that I might push her over the edge of sanity. But she was so beautiful, so desirable, just as I'd dreamed of her every night that we'd been apart. I could see she was slowly coming back to the present.

"_Carlos?_" Again, her voice was barely a whisper. "Is it really you?"

Relief flooded through me, but I could see that Steph was still uncertain. "Yes, Babe, it's really me. I'm Superman and you're Wonder Woman."

I could see the gears turning in her head. She blinked several times, and each time her eyes opened, she stared directly at my face as if expecting to see someone else. And then I saw her eyes darken as her pupils dilated, a feral look changing her lost look to that of a predator, or a woman in lust. A pink blush appeared across her décolleté and spread up her neck. Soon her cheeks were flushed a deep rose red. Her chest was rising and falling more rapidly now, and her mouth was open. She was panting deeply as if she'd been running a marathon.

And then the unexpected happened. Stephanie launched herself off the floor and flew at me, as if she'd been shot from a cannon. The suddenness of her movements caught me totally off guard. She landed on my lap with such force the chair nearly toppled backwards. Her hands locked themselves on top of mine and her legs slid down along my sides encasing my hips and I felt her center herself over my groin. The heat emanating from her lit a fire in my loins. With a growl, she yanked my head back by my hair and ground her lips against mine.

I'd never felt such passion in a woman and this was _my woman_. Stephanie's movements were forceful and sure and there was no doubt about what she wanted. She pressed her hips down onto mine and rubbed herself against my hard cock while her hands pinned my shoulders back against the chair. There were no gentle romantic kisses, just our tongues dueling for dominance. There were no sweet whispered words of love, only growls and gasps as we struggled to get as close to one another as humanly possible. This wild woman moving so sensuously on top of me had me so aroused I was afraid I'd cum before I could even get inside of her.

My breath was now coming in short bursts as my body reacted to Stephanie's increasingly demanding actions. Any control I had left was rapidly deserting me. I grabbed her ass and raised my hips up to meet hers. Her hands ripped my t-shirt out of my jeans and she tried to pull the shirt over my head. It got tangled under my arms and in one savage movement, she ripped it down the middle, grabbing my bare flesh with probing fingers and raked her fingernails down my chest. The pain was exquisite. When her hands reached my groin, I was totally lost.

All rational thought ceased as the sheer power of desperate need overtook both of us.

. . .

Awareness returned slowly. I raised my head to see a cloud of curly brown hair spread across my chest. I could smell vanilla and cherries. _Oh, Babe!_ I was finally with my Babe. A sense of peace filled me and I wrapped my arms around the soft pliant body draped across me. When she raised her head and I saw her blue eyes gazing into mine, a feeling of tenderness swept over me and I nearly cried with happiness.

"Babe."

"Carlos," she murmured, her voice raspy, but to me it was the most beautiful sound. I drank her in with my eyes, and was shocked to see how swollen her lips were. I let my eyes travel down to her neck and was horrified to see deep bite marks, not love hickeys, but actual teeth marks indented in her soft white skin.

Then my memory came back and I felt a rush of fear… fear that I'd hurt the one I loved most. I knew I had lost control and let my lust overtake reason. I remembered a fierce coupling… make that several violent couplings. _¡Dios mio_! It was as if our lives had depended on having sex immediately. There had been no love-making, no tender words of love and devotion. Only feral lust, wanton and demanding, a desperate need to come together in the most primal of ways.

I also remembered how wild Stephanie had been. She'd been like a she-cat in heat. I probably had just as many bite marks on me, as well as scratches on my chest and my back. And now that I was fully awake, my butt ached, as if it had been caught in a vise. I closed my eyes and I could still feel her fingernails raking my back and then grabbing my ass and pulling me tighter as I thrust myself into her, again and again. I remembered feeling her hips match my every movement and her guttural moans and cries driving me to greater and higher heights of passion than I'd ever experienced before. Dios, she'd been insatiable. But no more so than I. There'd been no thinking involved, just mutual savage copulation. I was surprised we'd both survived with only bite marks and scratches and probably more than a few bruises.

I looked down at the slowly stirring Steph lying on top of me and all I could think of was how much I loved her. "How are you?" I asked tenderly.

Those gorgeous blue eyes slowly closed and reopened. When she spoke again, her voice had returned to its normal timbre, but her cheeks took on a rosy hue as she murmured, "Embarrassed."

I couldn't help smiling. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Babe. We were just doing what came naturally."

"Natural for two wild animals in heat, maybe. I barely remember thinking, much less choosing what happened. It was as if my life depended on… fucking you." As she spoke, she let her fingers trace the contours of my face, lingering longer over the new scar on my forehead.

I reassured her, "At least we were in sync. That's exactly how I felt about it, too."

"It was as if I couldn't breathe unless you were inside me. I needed you filling me up just as much as I needed air filling my lungs. I didn't want to stop. I felt so empty when you weren't inside of me." She let her eyes drop. "Those moments when you were… when you couldn't…"

She was so adorable. As wild and passionate as she'd been having sex, talking about sex was difficult for her. "You can say it, Babe. Even Superman gets soft after he has several powerful orgasms."

She ducked her head down again and I could feel her smile forming. When she looked up though, her eyes were serious. "Each time you withdrew, I thought I was going to die. All I could think about was getting you hard again so we could continue the most glorious feeling I'd ever experienced. The first few times were… _savage_. I can't believe that was _me_. I've never felt that way before… ever."

"It was a first for me, too. You bring out the beast in me, Babe," I grinned.

"The beast… and the best, I hope?" Her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "_Omigod_, I remember drawing blood as I ran my fingernails down your chest. Instead of being repulsed by it, I… I… _omigod_, I _licked_ the blood off you." The expression on her face was priceless. She was horrified and at the same time turned on. Just her talking about it was making me hard all over again. I stretched my neck and gave her a light kiss which turned into something more. It didn't take long before we were both breathing heavily.

As soon as we broke apart, she exclaimed, "And we didn't really kiss – _we attacked each other_. I think at one point, I bit your lip so hard I drew blood." She reached up with her fingers and traced the outline of my mouth. "It was surreal, like it was happening to someone else." The blush started again in her cheeks. "But, damn, it was good," she uttered, with a touch of awe in her voice.

I couldn't argue with her. It had been damn good. "So, how do you feel now?" I asked.

She sighed, "Relaxed. For the first time in six months, I feel calm and relaxed." She gave me a Mona Lisa smile and laid her head back down on my chest, heaving a deep satisfied sigh. "Part of me feels like I've run a marathon and the other part of me feels light as air."

I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. I lightly stroked her back, feeling pretty contented myself. "I know that feeling. I feel really, really good, too. For the last six months, all I've dreamed about was being here with you, with our arms wrapped around each other, satiated after an epic love-making session."

That got a chuckle from my Babe as she replied, "That's a good word for it – epic!" Then, she got all serious. Looking back up at me she asked, "How is it that you're here? That you're in the States? You said something about you still being on your mission, that you were in hiding?"

"Yeah. I can't say too much, but the mission has changed. No one can know I'm back in the States. _No one_," I said, emphasizing the last two words, hoping she could understand how critical that point was. I saw worry and concern in her eyes, but I also saw understanding, or at least acceptance.

"Carlos, you said we only had a few hours. Please, don't tell me you have to go. I couldn't bear it if you left me again." Her arms tightened their hold on me.

I exhaled deeply and with regret at having to hurt her again, I explained, "I don't want to leave, Babe. If there was any way…" Our next kiss held all the longing and need we both felt, but I had to be straight with her. "I can only stay a little while longer. Only Tank knows where I am and it needs to stay that way. You have to go about your regular routine and not let on to _anyone_ that you've seen me."

"That's going to be pretty hard for me to do. I won't be able to wipe this _'I've just been gloriously fucked'_ smile off my face for weeks. My friends are going to notice the change in me. I've been moping about for months, missing you like crazy and driving Tina mad with my tears and whining. She's going to know something's up." She looked so cute I kissed the tip of her nose, but she pulled back a little.

"Carlos…" she hesitated until our eyes met, "I have a confession to make and… an apology." She'd just joked about being _gloriously fuck_ed and then, in an instant, she was intensely serious. Her mood swings were making me dizzy. She bit her lower lip and apologized, "I'm so sorry for not believing it was you at first. I guess I went a little crazy. But it's just because it keeps happening and today, of all days, it was _just… too… much_." Steph sighed, "You see, ever since I went to London in December, I've been seeing your face on other men." _So that's what she meant when she kept saying "It's not him."_

Steph looked sheepish and shook her head a little. "I have a really active imagination and I've really missed you. I would see someone who looked a little like you and my heart would speed up because I wanted… I needed it to be you, but, of course, it never was. And then I started seeing your face on men who didn't even resemble you at all. It was nerve-racking. And earlier today, I nearly got my Porsche – _oh, thank you for my beautiful car, I love it_ – but I nearly got it rear-ended because I thought I saw you in the alley next to this hotel… Omigod! It _was_ you! This time I wasn't imagining it. It was really you." She stretched up and kissed me and I couldn't help but grin. I'd never known anyone so spontaneous or so wonderfully silly before.

"I kinda like that I was on your mind so much you started actually seeing me. But I don't like that it nearly drove you crazy or nearly got you injured."

"But Carlos, that's all the more reason why you can't leave now. I'll go crazy knowing you're back home, but not be able to be with you. Don't go…"

I hated to hear how miserable Steph had been without me, and I really hated having to leave, but it gave me all the more incentive to wrap up this fucker of a mission once and for all. "I'm sorry we don't have more time today, but I had to see you. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Just remember, you can't tell anyone, not Tina, not Mateo… No one can know you saw me today. Remember, I'm presumed dead and listed as Missing In Action. I don't know if anyone's watching my family and friends, but lives depend on no one knowing that I am alive and back in the States. It has to be kept a secret. It's a matter of national security, Stephanie."

"This part of your job sucks," she pouted. I could see her struggle with the idea, but then she nodded, "Okay, I get it."

After a few moments, she asked, "How long? How long before this mission is over?"

I gave a slight headshake. "I don't know. It could be just a few days or it could be weeks."

With that, Steph brightened up. "So, I don't have to wait a whole 'nother year?"

"I seriously doubt it. I'll try to arrange another rendezvous for us as soon as I can. Now that we've been together again, I won't be able to stand being apart from you for long." I leaned forward and brushed my lips across her pouty swollen lips, trying not to hurt her. But she was having none of that. She reached up and pulled my head closer and kissed me with the same passion I'd felt from her earlier in the day.

That triggered the rest of my body and I knew I had to have her again. But first, I needed to go into the other room and get a condom…_oh shit!_ I couldn't be sure, but I doubted if either of us had thought about using protection the numerous times we'd lost ourselves in each other's bodies.

"Uh, Babe? What part of your cycle are you on?"

She stopped kissing my neck and raised her head to look at me. "My cycle?" Her brows furrowed together and then understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh. OH! _Oh, shit!_"

She sat up, her eyes wide, staring at me. There was no false modesty. She was naked and didn't bother to cover herself, to my delight. But first I needed to get a condom. I looked at her full breasts and the slight swell of her belly. Make that several condoms.

Leaping from the bed, I dashed into the other room and searched through the small bag I'd brought with me. When I came back into the room, Stephanie was chewing on her bottom lip.

"I think we're okay," she said. Then her rueful smile became mischievous. "Technically, I'm still having my period though it's probably the last day. It came less than a week ago, the same day I left Japan, so we should be good to go. I mean, I'm okay about us being together if you are. It's …um, not going to slow me down." The grin on her face was contagious. God, how I'd missed her! She was stunningly beautiful and yet so girl next door in attitude. She had no idea how amazing she was.

"Babe." That was all I could say as I grinned back at her. Nothing was going to slow me down either. Besides, she obviously was feeling pretty good and I was determined to enjoy every minute with her, even though there was so little time.

"Actually, now that I think about it, my PMS probably gave me the bitchy edge I needed to make all those good business decisions last week," she grinned.

"I'd heard you've become quite the jet-setting businesswoman. I'm so proud of you, Babe." There was so much we needed to talk about, but there was so little time and I wanted – needed – to spend what time we had just being with each other, not talking about missions, jobs, or families.

I leaned over and kissed her. "And since there's no need to worry," I said, "let's get back to what we were doing. Oh, by the way, I didn't arrive empty-handed. I come bearing gifts." With one hand, I held up a handful of foil-wrapped condoms and then, with the other hand brought out the pièce de résistance: a tray of chocolate covered strawberries. Her grin turned into a full-on smile and she clapped her hands in joy. My Babe sure loved her desserts.

We spent the next few minutes feeding each other the sweet fruit and licking the juices and chocolate from the other's lips. And then our need for each other overwhelmed us again, but this time, we made slow sensuous love. With condoms.

I never expected to be the sappy, romantic type, but Stephanie had changed me. I couldn't get enough of her. I loved her smell, I loved the taste of her, I loved the feel of her. Looking into her blue eyes was hypnotic. As we re-explored each other's bodies, I noticed several newly developing bruises on my Wonder Woman. I regretted the bruises, but not the passion that had caused them. Kissing each one tenderly, I tried to avoid them when we made love. Stephanie insisted on washing the trickles of blood from my back and chest. Her passion had led her to dig deep furrows into my skin. It was a good thing I'd already had my physical exam during my debriefing. I'd never be able to explain those obvious feminine fingernail scratches.

It was surprising how comfortable we were with each other, as if no time at all had passed. Stephanie hadn't failed to rouse my passions and indeed, she had surpassed my expectations and they had been extremely high. I was in awe of her.

Afterward, we lay in each other's arms, enjoying the simple yet humbling experience of post-coital cuddling. Our time together was running out.

Since I couldn't talk about my situation, I asked her about her new designing career and the _Babe!_ lingerie line she'd created. Her eyes shined brightly as she told me all about meeting Dawson Books and him offering her a job and how fast the new line had taken off. She was almost giddy as she described her trips to London and Tokyo, as well as her upcoming trip to Hawaii, to introduce the _Babe!_ line in the European and Asian markets. I couldn't believe she was already a partner in Books/Plum Designs and was jetting around the world. She told me about the townhouse she'd purchased and how she couldn't wait until I was able to join her in our new home. _Our home!_ I was so proud of her. She was truly Wonder Woman.

Stephanie eagerly showed me her charm bracelet with all the charms I'd selected for her. Her blue eyes sparkled with delight as she related a little story about each charm and what was happening in her life when Mateo had given them to her. I felt a twinge of jealousy that Mat had been able to share so much of her life when I couldn't. As soon as this mission was finished, I'd have to get the rest of the charms from Mateo so I could give them to her myself. I couldn't wait to give her the ruby red slipper charm and relive the Wizard of Ahhs all over again.

I asked her about her family, but she looked away and said, "When it comes to family there's too much to explain, so let's leave that for another time." She turned back to me with an odd expression on her face and she searched my eyes for the longest time. I didn't press her on her refusal to discuss family, though it was obvious there was something she wanted to tell me. Family was a sore subject for both of us and I knew we only had a few minutes left before I had to meet Tank in the alley behind the hotel. Talking wasn't on the agenda, kissing was.

If I thought leaving her before was hard, this time was worse. But at least this time, I knew it would only be a short time before I'd see her again. She would be in Hawaii for part of that time, anyway, but once she returned, there was no way I could stay in DC for very long knowing my Babe was only a few hours away. We had to find the Chameleon, and soon.

**TBC**


	34. Chapter 34 Chapter 118

**CHAPTER 118**

_Washington, D.C._

Mary Shamone folded her favorite cream-colored blouse – the one with pretty lace around the edges of the collar – and placed it carefully into her open suitcase. She glanced at the large decorative clock on her wall and gasped. It was much later than she'd thought. Now she'd have to hurry if she hoped to be ready to go when her boyfriend arrived to take her away to their favorite resort in the Poconos for a long weekend.

It had been such a nice surprise when Dave called Mary a few hours earlier to let her know he was back in town after visiting his elderly mother over in Spain. Of course, he had missed her so much that he wanted to see her as soon as possible. She was pleasantly surprised when he informed her of his plans for their private reunion. All she had to do was leave work early and he'd meet her at her apartment. With luck, they would be able to get on the road well before Washington's infamous rush-hour traffic clogged up all the highways. Mary quickly informed her mild-mannered coworker, Herschel Baumgartner, that she wasn't feeling well.

"Aw, Mary, I hope you're not coming down with that nasty virus," Herschel said. "It took my wife and kids a full week to recover from it."

"Thanks for your concern, Herschel," Mary replied. "I think I'll just spend the next couple of days in bed. Hopefully, I'll feel better after that." Oh, yeah, she was going to feel _much_ better after a few days in bed with Dave. Of that, she was certain.

"Well, it won't surprise me if you don't show up on Monday morning," Herschel said. "Sometimes the worst flu bug can start off as a simple case of the sniffles, you know."

"I'm going to cross my fingers and hope for the best," Mary said. "I'm also going to leave a note for Michael, but will you tell him, too? I don't want him to worry about the handprint profiles for the biometric access panels getting updated on time. I was able to finish them earlier this morning, but I simply can't function at my desk anymore. I'll take my laptop home, though, just in case."

She added a fake sniffle and a little cough for emphasis, secure in the knowledge that by the time Herschel talked to their supervisor, Dr. Michael Maliki, he would have exaggerated her symptoms to full-blown influenza status. Herschel always embellished his stories and Dr. Maliki wouldn't care about her absence once he knew she had completed her work. Besides, her fellow biomedical engineers always seemed to believe the quiet, unassuming Mary was honest about everything she did. They never would have guessed she was guilty of deep deception and treason.

After spending most of her adult life dateless and lonely, Mary had responded to Dave's romantic overtures the same way a plant in the desert responds to even the slightest bit of water. They had met in the employee cafeteria at one of the CIA's buildings in Rosslyn, Virginia – the one that had suffered so much damage recently after a terrorist bombing. It was an event she had helped to orchestrate after her boyfriend had convinced her to join his cause. They had been dating for close to a year and Mary was almost certain he would be asking her to marry him very soon. She could hardly wait to see him again after so many weeks of missing his handsome face and strong, virile body.

Mary knew that Daoud Mattas, or Dave as he preferred to be called here in America, was a highly-trained Middle Eastern intelligence operative, but he also was attentive and caring and gentle with her. His organization supported a particular political faction in Iraq, which preferred the country to develop at its own pace and not to be subjected to American Imperialism. Mary had listened to him deliver eloquent speeches about social and political freedom from Western influence, as well as helping the American government to extract its troops from Iraqi soil sooner rather than later. And after her younger brother, who was born and educated solely in America, had been brutally beaten by a gang of anti-Islamic racist thugs, Mary decided to help Dave in whatever ways she could manage.

As soon as she finished straightening her desk and gathering her things, Mary left a note for Dr. Maliki and quickly departed the secure building in which she worked. Then she walked to the nearest Metro station and headed back to her small apartment in nearby Alexandria, Virginia. Mary considered herself to be one of the luckiest women in the universe. She had a great job in the nation's capitol city, she lived in a safe part of town, and her lover was always excited to see her.

At one o'clock in the afternoon, Mary's doorbell rang. Her small suitcase was packed and ready to go and so was she. Her elderly neighbor, Frances Duncan, had already agreed to collect her mail and newspapers while she was off on her weekend getaway. After smoothing away nonexistent wrinkles from the front of her skirt, Mary took a deep breath and opened her door. When she let Dave into her apartment, he greeted her with a long, sensual kiss as he closed the door with his foot. His passion and desire for her was quite evident and she giggled at his enthusiasm.

Pulling back from his embrace, Mary gasped, "Well, hello to you, too! I guess it's safe to assume you missed me just as much as I missed you."

He smiled and Mary felt a shiver go down her spine. Dave had always been so gentle with her, but this time something felt different, almost urgent. And even though his kisses were passionate, his eyes seemed a bit distant. She wondered if he was just nervous and thinking about the way he would propose to her later. She had hoped to surprise Dave with a special gift – a painting of the two of them together – but the artist hadn't delivered it yet. Instead, she decided to show him the package of photographs she had taken before his trip to Spain. It was one these photos of the two of them that she had sent to the artist to be made into a painting.

"Before we leave, I want to show you something," Mary said as she slid out of Dave's arms and grabbed one of his hands to pull him over to her sofa. After they sat down, she reached into the drawer of her end table and pulled out the packet of photos. Fanning them out like a deck of playing cards, she gestured for him to look at the pictures. "Do you remember our first unofficial date, when I took these with my cell phone? Well, I went to the local drugstore and had them made into actual photographs. So … what do you think? "

Mary watched Dave's face as he examined each picture. They had taken a long walk around the National Mall, and there were photos of the couple standing there with the Washington Monument in the background, as well as other favorite tourist spots. He remembered the day quite clearly. They had shared a picnic lunch and, during their casual conversation, Dave had mentioned his ties to an organization that hoped to deliver political and military independence to the beleaguered people of Iraq. Mary admired him for being a member of a group that was trying to do good things in an area where so much bad had happened. She had no idea the whole thing – their relationship, his "good" cause, his love for her – was a big, fat lie.

Dave's lips tightened before he sighed and turned to Mary. Smiling, he asked, "These are very good photos. Are these the only copies? May I have a set, too?"

"Oh, you may have this entire packet. I had them made especially for you!" Mary exclaimed. "I can look at them on my phone's display any time I want." She decided not to tell him about the painting she had commissioned from her favorite photo of the two of them. Perhaps she would give it to him as a personal wedding gift after they were married.

Dave's dark eyes gazed into Mary's bright eyes and her heart quickened at the intensity she saw there. He didn't utter a sound. Rather, he kissed her again and again. Then he pulled her to her feet and whirled her into his arms, embracing her from behind as his hands roamed over her body, bringing her passion to a boil. Then he lifted her skirt, pulled her panties down and after quickly unzipping his pants, pushed himself inside of her. Their coupling was so wild and primal and unexpected, Mary never knew what happened next.

Actually, there were a lot of things Mary Shamone, born Maryah Shamon, never knew. She never knew she was a dupe in a game that extended far beyond her experience and knowledge. She never knew Dave was highly skilled at hand-to-hand combat and that he was both willing and able to break her neck with a caress, which turned into a quick, rotating snap. She never knew Dave's real name. And she never knew her code name had been 'The Chameleon.'

. . .

Sergeants Tank James and Lester Santos worked closely with FBI Special Agents Johannes Larsen and Silvio Jimenez to divulge everything they could about the work habits of Miss Mary Shamone. On Friday, the agents went to the biomedical engineer's workplace and questioned her coworkers. Upon discovering that the woman had left work early on Thursday, they served their search warrant and confiscated all of the files. During the weekend, the four men combed through all of the files, both paper and electronic, but their search failed to turn up any usable evidence.

On a chilly Monday morning, FBI Special Agents Larsen and Jimenez led the way into the red brick apartment complex where Mary Shamone lived. It was a nice, quiet neighborhood, largely populated by working couples and older people. Tank and Lester had followed the FBI agents and parked next to them in the complex's small parking lot before they accompanied them into the building. They knew they would have to wait in the hallway until after the agents had served the search warrant and asked Mary Shamone some initial questions. Then, while Silvio checked all electronics in the apartment, Lars would invite them in to see if they could find anything that would connect Ms. Shamone to terrorist activities or even prove she actually was the Chameleon.

"She's not there," an elderly-looking woman told them after they had knocked on Ms. Shamone's door several times. "I'm Mrs. Frances Duncan and I'm telling you Mary isn't at home right now. May I help you?"

Mrs. Duncan was eighty-two years old, but still quite spry for her age. Her brown skin was wrinkly and her dark brown eyes sparkled with life. Her snowy white hair was cut into a stylishly short Afro and she wore a clean, but faded housedress and sensible shoes. Lars walked over to her and introduced himself and the rest of the group while showing her his badge.

"Ma'am, we're with the FBI," he said. "We're working on a very important case and we really need to speak with Ms. Shamone. She wasn't at her workplace this morning and a co-worker claimed she went home feeling sick last Thursday. Have you seen her since then?"

"Oh, I don't think she was really sick," Mrs. Duncan replied, after she had examined the badge very carefully and nodded her approval. "Mary told me she was going away for a long weekend with her boyfriend. She should be back later today. You know, sometimes young people just need to play hooky." And she winked at the men.

"Boyfriend?" Lars asked. "Has she been dating him for a while?"

Mrs. Duncan nodded again. "Oh my, yes. I'd say it's been almost a year now. His name is Dave, Dave Mattas. In fact, Mary also told me she thought this weekend would be the big one, when Dave would pop the question, if you know what I mean."

"Have you ever met Ms. Shamone's boyfriend?" Silvio asked. "Do you know what he looks like?"

"No, I've never met the man myself," Mrs. Duncan shook her head slowly. "Mary claims he's Mr. Wonderful, but there's always some reason or another I haven't been able to meet him face-to-face. Bad timing, I guess." She sighed and then continued, "I was very blessed with my William. My family and friends knew absolutely every little thing about the man I married long before he popped the question to me. We had fifty-four years of wedded bliss before Will went home to be with his Maker. Are any of you fine-looking young men married?"

Only Silvio nodded and lifted his be-ringed hand.

Mrs. Duncan clapped her hands together with glee as she glanced at Lars, Tank and Lester in turn and said, "Well, then, if Dave turns out _not_ to be Mary's Mr. Wonderful, perhaps one of you three might be the one."

Lester shook his head and declared, "Sorry, ma'am, but I just got engaged to the most beautiful girl in the world. And my buddy, here," he patted Tank on the shoulder, "he just met the woman of his dreams. So we're taken."

"And what about you, young man?" Mrs. Duncan asked Lars as she zeroed in on him. "Are you engaged to be married or seeing anyone seriously?"

Lars shook his head. "No, ma'am, I'm not seeing anyone seriously at this time, primarily because I'm focused on my career. That said, do you have any idea where Ms. Shamone and her boyfriend might have gone for their weekend getaway?"

She considered the question for a moment and then replied, "Somewhere in the mountains, I think. There's this place in Pennsylvania up in the Poconos that Mary's talked about before. Yes, I'm pretty sure that's where they went."

Silvio blew out a frustrated breath. Then he held out the search warrant for Mrs. Duncan to examine. "Ma'am, would you please direct us to the apartment complex's manager's office? We are authorized to search Ms. Shamone's apartment and we really can't afford to wait until she returns."

"Oh, I have a spare key to Mary's place," Mrs. Duncan admitted. "I don't think Mr. Sylvester, the super, will mind if I let you in. It'll save him a trip. Give me a minute to call him, just to make sure."

She disappeared inside her own apartment, but the men could hear her end of the phone conversation quite clearly and it seemed that she had been right. The super was dealing with a clogged toilet in another part of the building, so Mrs. Duncan's assistance with the officers of the law was greatly appreciated. She reappeared in the hallway, holding out a key toward Lars.

"There you go," she said. Then her eyes opened wide and she said, "Oh! I just accepted the delivery of a painting for Mary. She told me it probably would arrive while she was gone and it did. But it's taking up too much space in my foyer and I've almost tripped over it several times, so maybe one of you gentlemen could place it in her foyer for me." She reached inside her doorway and struggled to pull out a large frame, wrapped in brown paper.

Tank easily lifted the painting into his arms while Lars opened the apartment door. A familiar and unpleasant stench wafted into the hallway and Lester fought to keep from gagging. The agent immediately shut the door and turned to Mrs. Duncan.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Duncan, but when did you last see Ms. Shamone?" he asked.

"Thursday afternoon," she replied confidently. "She had just finished packing and she asked me to look out for her painting. It's supposed to be a portrait of her and her boyfriend. Oh, I almost forgot! It's supposed to be a surprise for him, so maybe you'd better hide it under her bed or put it in the closet behind her clothes. I'll let her know it's in there when she gets home."

Lars sighed and said, "Ma'am, perhaps one of my associates and I may come into your apartment and ask you a few more questions while Agent Jimenez and our other associate conduct a search of Ms. Shamone's apartment." He had gestured toward Lester, thinking that the shorter man would put the woman at ease better than Tank.

"Why, yes, of course," she exclaimed. "I'll make a fresh pot of coffee for all of us. How about that?" Then Lars and Lester followed the old woman into her home and shut the door.

Silvio was already contacting their headquarters to send out a forensics team ASAP. They knew they had to keep things quiet in case someone from the terrorist cell was watching. They also knew they could not allow Mrs. Duncan to enter Mary Shamone's tragedy-filled apartment until a clean-up team had worked its magic.

When the men entered the scene of the gruesome crime, Tank grimaced and pulled up his T-shirt to cover his nose and mouth. It was highly likely that Mary Shamone had been dead since Thursday afternoon or evening. Her bloated corpse lay crumpled on the floor next to her fireplace, her head positioned at an unnatural angle. Clearly, the poor woman's neck had been snapped either during or immediately after someone had tossed up her skirt and had his way with her. Whoever had killed her had done so with a steady, practiced hand.

Tank watched and stayed out of the way while Silvio made a video recording of the crime scene. As the FBI agent described every detail, Tank's eyes were drawn to the wrapped painting that he had set down in the foyer of the apartment. He remembered Mrs. Duncan's words and when Silvio finished his recording, he asked the agent for permission to take a look at the painting.

"If this really is a painting of Mary Shamone and her boyfriend, we might just have an accurate image of the man who probably killed her," Tank said.

"Let's hope you're right," Silvio replied. "Since, obviously, Ms. Shamone is no longer available to answer any of our questions."

The two men carefully unwrapped the painting and Tank felt a twist in his gut. It was a portrait of a nice-looking couple embracing on the walking path that circled the National Mall in Washington, D.C., the Washington Monument standing tall in the background. The woman in the picture was definitely Mary Shamone and the man looked vaguely familiar. If Tank was right, the man in the painting was the Iraqi operative Captain Mañoso had identified as Ali Mohammed al-Rashad.

**TBC**


	35. Chapter 35 Chapter 119

**CHAPTER 119**

"Yes, sir, that's him," Captain Carlos Mañoso nodded to FBI Special Agent Johannes Larsen. "That's definitely Ali Mohammed al-Rashad. Whoever the artist is, he totally captured the bastard's cold eyes. I'll never forget him, that's for sure." He exchanged an unreadable glance with Sergeant Bobby Brown.

The two U.S. Army Special Forces soldiers sat at a conference table in a nondescript office building that housed several Federal Bureau of Investigation teams. They had traveled from Fort Bragg, North Carolina to Washington, D.C. under highly classified orders to assist the FBI, and two members of their own Delta Force unit, with a specific case involving Al Qaeda operatives on American soil. Both the military and the government agency had been working on different aspects of the case and now it was time to cooperate and bring the case to a close.

"Please, let's not do the 'Sir' thing, alright? We're all on a first name basis here. We've been working with Tank and Lester for awhile and I think they're comfortable with it now. I'm Lars and that's Silvio," Special Agent Larsen said. "Thanks for your input, Carlos. I really wanted positive ID before we track down and cut off this terrorist cell once and for all. And I'm glad your commander is allowing you to accompany us on this mission. We don't want any mistakes, and if you can verify this guy is al-Rashad, then we can neutralize him and his group without any doubts."

Carlos grinned coldly and tapped his finger on the image of al-Rashad. "It'll be my distinct pleasure to neutralize this particular piece of scum. It's clear that he used romantic gestures to seduce and influence Miss Shamone and then he used her to gain access to highly sensitive information. If not for the testimony of Curt Morgan, the CIA operative we rescued several months back, we'd never have known about the kidnapped cryptographers or the mole. What name did you say al-Rashad was using when he recruited the Chameleon?"

"Dave Mattas," replied Agent Silvio Jimenez. "According to Ms. Shamone's neighbor, the biomed truly thought the man was going to marry her."

"Instead, he killed her," Agent Larsen pushed a stack of photos of the crime scene toward Carlos.

"But the way he killed her was just cold-blooded," Lester added, shuddering as he saw the images. "First he screwed her and then he fuckin' broke her neck. I hope I never see anything like that ever again."

Tank nodded. "It was bad. The neighbor, Mrs. Duncan, was real shaken up by the whole thing. I think she thought of Ms. Shamone as a daughter or something."

"That's who I feel sorry for," Lester said. "Mrs. Duncan is a nice lady. It's gonna be awful for her if she ever learns of Ms. Shamone's treasonous activities."

"She won't," said Lars. "A case like this will stay buried in the classified files. The local police are already treating it as a random, violent crime. None of the specific details have been released to the public and they never will."

"And regardless of Ms. Shamone's acts of treason, we're the only ones who can bring her murderer to justice," Silvio added. "If Mrs. Duncan hadn't asked us to put that package in her apartment and also told us it was a portrait of Shamone and her boyfriend, we'd still be searching for the killer. With a name and picture, we had something to start the search." Then he opened a manila folder on the table and Lars began to brief the other men on the next phase of their mission.

"When we tracked down the name Dave Mattas, we discovered three different yet connected businesses," Lars explained. "We found a janitorial services company, a paper products distribution company and a cleaning supplies distribution company, all owned and operated by one Daoud Mattas of Mattas Brothers Enterprises out of Philadelphia. 'Daoud' is the Arabic version of 'David.' We're not quite sure yet if the surname 'Mattas' has any special meaning beyond a play on the Spanish word 'matas,' which means 'kill'."

Lester shook his head and said, "Sounds like they'd be a family of assassins, not terrorists."

"It's definitely a strange family. There seem to be a lot of men in the Mattas family," Silvio said. "No women, just men. And when I dug into their immigration files, they all came from a small town on the Spanish coast near France. Of course, I dug even deeper and discovered they all just 'appeared' in that town at the same time several years ago and none of them physically remained there for very long, even though they maintain a modest home there. It's a great front for a group of terrorists or assassins – take your pick. They think they're clever, but we're _more_ clever." And he flashed a mischievous smile.

"You mentioned a janitorial service," Carlos said. "Did that company have the cleaning contract on the building where the cryptographers worked – the building that was bombed?"

Lars shook his head. "No, but we asked the same question. Great minds must think alike."

The side of Carlos' mouth twitched, as though he was thinking about smiling, but had changed his mind. "Did you take a look at whoever _did_ have the contract for janitorial services?"

"Of course we did!" exclaimed Lester. "What do you think we've been doing all this time? We checked the files of every frickin' person who _ever_ set foot in that building!"

Silvio patted Lester on the shoulder and said, "And you did an outstanding job. It's just that, well … sometimes, you need to be able to dig a little bit deeper, which is what I did after I read your report, Lester."

Lester shot a glance at Tank, who merely shrugged, and they let the agent continue.

"Lars and I even brought in Mr. Gonzales, the head janitor, last week and questioned him again," Silvio explained. "I told him I had noticed a discrepancy with the times he said it normally took his cleaning team to finish their work and the time it actually took the cleaning team to do the work a few nights before the bombing."

"Whoa! How did you find that out?" Lester asked.

"I reexamined several electronic timesheets and saw the time difference," Silvio explained. "Every evening for months and months, the cleaning team members swiped in their access cards at approximately eight o'clock and they swiped out around ten – every night except for one. On that particular night, three days prior to the bombing, they swiped in at eight, as usual, but they didn't leave until almost midnight."

"That's quite a difference," Tank said. "I don't know why we missed it." He clearly was bothered by the information.

"Don't worry about it, Tank," Silvio soothed. "Remember, all the electronics in the building were badly damaged – first by the fires from the explosions and then by the water used to put out those fires. This data was deep in the electronic 'weeds' and you probably wouldn't have been able to dig it out unless you had access to the kind of software programs I have. And you couldn't possibly have that software because I created it myself."

"_Now_ you tell us," scoffed Lester. "It sure would have been nice if -"

"No harm, no foul," Carlos interrupted. "So, tell us what the head janitor said when you asked him about the time discrepancies."

Silvio nodded in respect toward Carlos and continued, "Mr. Gonzales explained that he and several members of his cleaning team had become afflicted with food poisoning after attending the wedding of a friend who was also in the janitorial business. It soon became obvious they weren't going to be able to do their job that night, and the friend offered up one of his cleaning teams to cover for them. Mr. Gonzales knew this friend had cleaning contracts within other government buildings, so he figured it would be okay. They exchanged access cards for the evening and the friend returned the cards in the morning. Two of his own team members were able to accompany the subs, but everything took longer that night. Mr. Gonzalez didn't think anything of it after the bombing. After all, it had been three days since the switch."

"Let me guess," Bobby joined the discussion for the first time that day, "the name of the friend was Dave Mattas."

"Close, but no cigar," Lars said in an imitation of Groucho Marx. "It was _Fred_ Mattas – or Farid according to his immigration papers – who got married. But Dave was most likely one of the members of the substitute cleaning team who gained access to the CIA building in Rosslyn. Now we think they probably planted their explosive devices all over the building as they 'cleaned' and those bombs probably were set on timers to explode precisely when they did."

"That's so fucked up!" Lester growled.

"Agreed," said Silvio. "And the kicker is: Mr. Gonzalez never would have suspected his friends, the Mattas Brothers. He never would have come forward with the truth about letting in a substitute cleaning crew if we hadn't asked. Needless to say, his company is no longer on the approved list of independent contractors to work in CIA or FBI buildings."

"Fast forward to this week," Lars picked up the discussion. "We contacted our associates up in Philly and they have located and set up surveillance at the warehouse listed as the primary headquarters of Mattas Brothers Enterprises. They sent us these photos. Interesting stuff." And he pushed another stack of photos toward Carlos.

Carlos studied the photos of several men entering and exiting the main door of a modestly sized brick warehouse located in a run-down area full of older warehouses near the Philadelphia harbor. One man definitely looked like al-Rashad and Carlos felt his fingers twitch at the thought of putting a bullet through the terrorist's skull. When he glanced up from the photos, Lars locked eyes with him and shook his head.

"We'd all like a piece of al-Rashad," Lars said. "But it would be best if we captured him alive. It looks like that warehouse might be some sort of distribution center for illegal firearms and explosives. He may be willing to, ah … give up important information on his contacts here in the States."

Carlos smirked. "Don't count on it. His kind would rather die before giving up any of his secrets. That's part of the reason he holds our country in such disdain. He's been able to worm his way into the good graces of many Americans who simply gave him the info he requested. And those he couldn't charm, he tortured until they gave him what he wanted. He's ruthless and merciless and expects no mercy if captured."

"Well, let's at least _try_ to capture him first," Lars emphasized.

No one in the room argued with the Agent-in-Charge, but Lars knew quite well that no one agreed with him, either.

_Honolulu, Hawaii_

"Omigod!" Tina Minardo, Stephanie Plum's best friend and administrative assistance exclaimed. "I can't believe we're really here! In Waikiki! This place is incredible! Damn! I _will_ come back here someday with Lester. You can bet on it!" She babbled on and on and on as she and Stephanie unpacked their luggage in the hotel room.

The excited women had changed into their bikinis and beach cover-ups as soon as they entered their room. However, they decided to be good girls and put away the rest of their things before they went downstairs to enjoy the beautiful Duke Kahanamoku Beach, named for the famous Olympic swimmer who also happened to be the father of modern surfing. The beach was in front of the Hilton Hawaiian Village Beach Resort and Spa, which was where the Books/Plum Design entourage was staying for the next ten days as they met with Japanese department store executives.

Stephanie lifted the last blouse out of her suitcase and placed it on a hanger. After she hung it in the closet, she stared out of the hotel room's large window and gazed at the gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean. Stephanie knew that somewhere across the deep blue water and probably on the other side of the continent, Carlos was hunting down the bad guys. The waiting was almost unbearable for her. Now that she had been reunited with him, even for such a brief time, she never wanted to be apart from him ever again. Yes, she was extremely relieved to know he wasn't overseas anymore, but she wanted him in her arms, in her bed, in her life. Now and forever!

Tina finally noticed how quiet her roommate had become and she asked, "Stevie, are you okay?"

At first Stephanie nodded, but then she shook her head. Sighing, she said, "I miss Carlos. And, no offense, but I _really_ wish he was my roommate and not you."

"None taken," Tina reassured her. "I seem to remember a similar conversation in Tokyo. Didn't we say we only wanted our men to be our roommates the next time we had to stay in a hotel? I'm sorry, but you're a poor substitute for Lester the Luscious."

Stephanie giggled. "Lester the Luscious? Seriously? Is that what you're calling him now?"

Tina shrugged. "I dunno. I haven't quite decided yet. Your man has a cool nickname. And then there's Tank, of course. I just want Lester to have a good nickname, too."

"Hmm." Tapping her chin, Stephanie said, "I doubt Lester would let his buddies call him 'Luscious.' That's probably something you might just want to call him in private."

"I know, I know," Tina replied, waving away her friend's comment. "That's why I haven't made up my mind on a nickname. 'Les' sounds like 'less' and with my man, there's always _more_, if you know what I mean."

Stephanie shook her head and turned away from the window. After she put her suitcase on the upper shelf in the closet, she fell back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. While Tina was still chatting happily about their luxurious accommodations, Stephanie tuned her out and allowed her mind to wander. Since this was another Hilton hotel, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she remembered the way Carlos had surprised her in room 409 of the Newark Hilton. She didn't realize her hand was drifting up her torso until Tina cleared her throat.

"Um, Stevie, should I make myself scarce for a while?" she asked. "I mean, I thought we were gonna head down to the beach now, but if you need to take care of business, well…"

It took Stephanie a moment to understand what Tina was talking about, but then she turned beet red and sat up on the edge of her bed. "Oh! Oh, no. I was just…um. Aw hell, you know I was thinking about my man."

"Yeah," she nodded. "You've been doing that a lot lately – spacing out, I mean, not, um, touching yourself. I can't blame you, though, 'cause I know I've been thinking about Lester nonstop. Damn! I'll be glad when their frickin' mission is over and we can get married."

Glad for another topic to latch onto, Stephanie said, "Thank God your Great-Aunt Ana Maria works for the Archdiocese! I can't believe how lucky you are that she found you an available church opening for your wedding."

"Omigod!" Tina exclaimed and sat down next to Stephanie. "I haven't even told you the whole story. We only got that slot because this other bride-to-be found out her fiancé was fooling around with his best man's girlfriend. And so her father, a minor Mafia boss, threatened to put out a hit on the former groom, but he discovered he couldn't do that because the other woman happens to be his very own goddaughter and _she_ claims to really love the idiot. Can you imagine that? It's a total soap opera! Even so, my grandmother wept for joy when her sister called her and told her the church was ours for the second weekend in July. I'm so excited!"

"Are you sure Lester is gonna be available for the wedding?" Stephanie asked.

Tina's shoulders slumped a little and she replied, "I sure as hell hope so, but you know the deal with these Army guys. I mean, honestly, there's no telling what will happen with them from one day to the next. That's why Keira won't even return any of Tank's phone calls. She said she'll talk to him when he's officially out of the Army and not a day before."

"Wow, that's kinda harsh," Stephanie remarked.

"Yeah," Tina agreed with a nod. "But I can totally understand her point of view. You know damn well these kinds of soldiers can disappear for months at a time without any notice and they can't tell you anything about what they were doing while they were gone. It's insane! Lester told me both his and Tank's current enlistment contracts were _supposed_ to be over and done back in January. Unfortunately, they hadn't met any of us fabulous ladies when they volunteered to extend their time on active duty to participate in their current mission. Now they're stuck. So, my fingers are crossed that our guys will finish up quickly so that the Army can release Lester and Tank without further delay."

"Okay…so, I guess I'd better cross my fingers, too," Stephanie said as she held up her hands with her fingers crossed.

There was a knock on the door and Tina got up to answer it. Amanda McCord waltzed into their room and sat down on the sofa. A wide grin lit up the pretty blonde's face. Since she and Melinda Walker laid the groundwork for the marketing and Internet portions of the Asian contracts for distributing the _Babe!_ lingerie line, they had joined Stephanie and Tina, as well as their boss, Dawson Books and his lovely wife, Rosa, on this trip to Hawaii to finalize everything. The other women's room was across the hall from Stephanie and Tina's room.

"Guess what?" Amanda asked and she practically bounced off the sofa with excitement.

"Let's see, is there an international computer geek convention going on downstairs?" Tina teased.

Amanda glared at her and then turned to Stephanie, smiling once again, "Kazuhiro Watanabe-san just called Melinda! And you'll never guess where he's staying!"

"Here in the Hilton Hawaiian Village?" Stephanie guessed.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Well, duh! This place is huge. C'mon, you can do better than that. Guess again!"

"He's on the same floor with us?" Tina guessed.

"Better!" Amanda gushed.

"His room is next door to you and Melinda?" Stephanie asked.

Amanda stood up and clapped her hands together. "Bingo! And Mel is with him right now!"

"Woo hoo!" Tina hooted and pumped her fist in the air. "I guess that means she won't be joining us on the beach this afternoon."

"That's a 'bingo' for you, too, Tina!" Amanda said. "I don't think we'll see our dear, sweet Melinda until tonight's business dinner with the other Japanese store representatives."

Stephanie's heart wanted to be intensely jealous of her friend, but she knew that would be ridiculous, especially since she had managed to keep her reunion with Carlos a secret – even from Tina. It had been almost easy, because Tina was completely preoccupied with her own wedding plans lately. And Melinda was preoccupied by thoughts of her budding romance with a man she had first met when they were young teenagers. Her best friend, Mary Lou, had been overwhelmed by her sick kids and sick husband. And Stephanie's father was troubled by his failing marriage. No one seemed to notice the slightly goofy smile that sometimes appeared on Stephanie's face.

Stephanie smiled widely and said, "Well, I am very happy for Mel. Kaz seems to be a great guy and I hope everything works out okay for them. I must confess, though, I'm interested to see what Dawson thinks of Kaz."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll love Kaz as much as we do," Amanda proclaimed. "After all, it was Kaz's idea to hold these meetings in Hawaii, saving Dawson the headache of having to drag us all the way back to Japan to finalize the contracts and everything."

Tina nodded, "That's true. And I'm grateful, too. The jetlag after the Tokyo trip nearly killed me!"

"Me, too," Amanda agreed. Then she pulled a travel guide out of her beach bag and asked, "Where do you think we should go during our free time?"

Not wanting to waste any more of their precious free time, Stephanie stood up and replied, "Anywhere where we can work on our tans – and that means we need to leave this room. Besides, we can continue this discussion on the beach." Then she walked to the door, opened it and said, "Let's go!"

No one disagreed with her.

_Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

"There he is," Bobby spoke softly into the small microphone attached to his earpiece. He was lying flat on the roof of a building adjacent to the Mattas Brothers' warehouse. "He and one of his 'brothers' are approaching from the northwest. They're on foot."

"I see them," Lars affirmed from his hidden position. "It looks like the other man is the one we've identified as Farid Mattas, a.k.a. Mustafa Bin Muqtab. Everyone, let's do our best to _capture_, not kill. Silvio and I will approach them as planned."

"Roger. Wilco," several voices replied over their communications headsets. Bobby and Lester, along with several FBI agents, were in key positions surrounding the targeted building.

Tank and Carlos had entered the building earlier and the three guards they had encountered were securely bound and gagged and stashed inside of a utility closet near the back door of the warehouse. They had decided to wait to capture the fourth guard who was stationed at the main entrance. Al-Rashad would have become aware of their presence too soon if none of his guards were at their posts when he arrived.

Everyone held their positions until al-Rashad and his henchman were almost at the entrance of the building. Then Lars and Silvio walked around the corner and held up their badges.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Lars said smoothly. "I'm Special Agent Larsen, of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and this is my partner, Special Agent Jimenez. We'd like to ask you some questions."

Ali Mohammed al-Rashad and Mustafa Bin Muqtab exchanged wary glances with one another before answering.

"What is this about?" al-Rashad asked as he leaned forward to examine the badges.

"You are Daoud and Farid Mattas, right?" Silvio asked. "Of Mattas Brothers Enterprises, by way of good ol' España, sí?

Bin Muqtab nodded, but he looked worried and he rubbed his hands together. "Perhaps we can go into our office and speak privately in there."

Lars nodded and he and Silvio followed the two men inside to a medium-sized office that overlooked a large workroom. The guard inside in the entryway practically snapped to attention when he saw al-Rashad, but the man cowered back slightly when al-Rashad scowled and shook his head at him. Clearly, the man in charge didn't want the feds to know there was anything even slightly military about the Mattas Brothers operations.

In the workroom, there were many wooden crates along the sides of the walls and some of them were covered with dark canvas tarps. The two agents knew that many of the crates contained guns, ammunition, and other explosive materials. The FBI had been observing the activities at the Mattas Brothers warehouse ever since Agent Larsen had alerted them to the probable connections to Al Qaeda. They knew a large transfer of the illegal cargo was scheduled to occur within the next few days, but it was more important to capture al-Rashad before they confiscated the cache of weapons and ammo.

Once seated in the office, Lars addressed al-Rashad directly, "Mr. Mattas, we regret to inform you of the recent death of Miss Mary Shamone of Alexandria, Virginia. We understand she was your fiancée."

"Miss Mary Shamone?" al-Rashad feigned ignorance. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name."

"That's odd, Mr. Mattas," Lars looked puzzled. "We were told specifically that Miss Shamone's fiancé was a man named Dave Mattas, and you definitely fit the description of this man. Here, take a look for yourself. She had this painting made from a photograph and that man sure looks like you." Lars held out a photograph of the painting and watched as al-Rashad's face grew dark with fury.

Then Lars recited the Miranda Warning, advising the men of their rights to remain silent and obtain legal counsel. The two men stared at Lars, al-Rashad still furious and Bin Muqtab uncertain.

Bin Muqtab glanced at the photo again and then at al-Rashad and began to babble, "There must be some mistake, sirs. I'm sure my brother doesn't know this woman. Even though the likeness in this painting is … ah, somewhat similar, surely you've got the wrong man."

Lars nodded and said, "You know, I think you're right. In fact, we believe the man in this painting is an Al Qaeda operative who recruited Miss Shamone to his cause. Through her, he gained access to highly classified information, and when she was no longer useful to him, he killed her. This man," Lars tapped his finger on the photo and looked directly at bin Muqtab, "is no more Daoud Mattas than you are Farid Mattas." And then he and Silvio drew their weapons and pointed them at the men. "Ali Mohammed al-Rashad and Mustafa Bin Muqtab, you're under arrest for the murder of Mary Sha-"

Al-Rashad reacted faster than anyone had anticipated, pulled out a compact machine gun and started firing. Before they knew what had happened, Bin Muqtab's head was an unrecognizable bloody mess. Both Lars and Silvio lay stunned and unconscious on the floor of the office, and even though they were wearing bullet-proof vests, they were riddled with multiple gunshot wounds.

"Shots fired!" the cry went out over official channels. "Officers down! Call for assistance!"

Carlos and Tank had been approaching the office cautiously when they heard the gunfire. Before they reached the office though, the lone remaining guard noticed them in the hallway and he fired his own weapon at them. Both men took cover and Tank signaled to Carlos that he'd take care of the guard while Carlos went after al-Rashad.

"Hassan!" Still in the office, al-Rashad bellowed for the guard. "Hassan!"

When there was no response, al-Rashad yanked open the office door and stood in shock for a moment as he locked eyes with Carlos. The man's jaw tightened as he

recognized him and he growled, "You! You're supposed to be dead!"

Carlos was ready for him and kicked the machine gun out of al-Rashad's hands. "Sorry to disappoint," he replied with a tinge of amusement.

Naturally, al-Rashad was carrying more than one weapon and, in a flash, his knife bit into Carlos' side before he had a chance to pull back. Carlos fired his handgun, but the shot went wide. Al-Rashad then kicked Carlos in the groin and leaped over him to escape down the walkway.

Tank was still grappling with Hassan the guard, when al-Rashad threw his knife into his own man's back. Hassan became dead weight on top of Tank, but that worked out for the best when al-Rashad pulled out another handgun and fired at the bigger man. Thankfully, Tank was able to use Hassan's lifeless body as a shield and he hoped none of al-Rashad's bullets would pass through the dead guard. Again, al-Rashad ran, but by then, Carlos was back on his feet and chased after him into the workroom.

"Give it up, al-Rashad," Carlos called out from his position behind a crate. "This place has been under surveillance for days. The FBI and the CIA have all the evidence they need to put you and your terrorist cell away for a long, long time."

"We are _not_ terrorists," yelled al-Rashad. "We are freedom fighters! Unlike you oil-hungry, imperialist dogs, _our_ cause is just."

"Tell that to Mary Shamone, you bastard," Carlos snarled. "What you did to her was inhumane! There was nothing 'just' about her rape and murder."

Al-Rashad took another shot at Carlos and yelled, "It was not rape! She had fulfilled her duty to the cause and I made sure she died a happy woman. Bah! I don't have to explain myself to you. You will truly be a dead man when I'm through with you!"

"Bring it on, or are you afraid to face me?" Carlos taunted.

While the gunfight continued, Bobby called for an FBI back-up team, as well as medical assistance. Then he and Lester silently crept into the office area to administer first aid to Silvio and Lars. Earlier, Lester had blocked all of the doors except one, over which he stood guard, so that Bobby could carry the injured FBI agents out to safety across the street from the warehouse without worrying about al-Rashad escaping.

After he couldn't find an open door, al-Rashad took over a well-protected position behind a thick brick column and he was able to keep Carlos pinned down behind one of the many crates in the warehouse. Tank was moving into position to provide covering fire so Carlos could move elsewhere when one of al-Rashad's bullets sparked a crate. A loud explosion rocked the warehouse and ragged chunks of brick and cement became flying pieces of shrapnel. Tank was thrown back twenty feet into another brick column and Carlos realized they were in serious trouble.

Flames spread quickly from one crate to the next and Carlos could hear al-Rashad's maniacal laughter as he yelled, "You were supposed to have already died in an explosion, so today's fires will provide the righteous justice your lies and duplicity cheated!"

Carlos knew he had to get to Tank and that both of them needed to get the hell out of that warehouse as quickly as possible before the rest of the crates of ammo exploded. But he also knew he had to eliminate al-Rashad once and for all. The FBI was just going to have to be satisfied with shutting down the terrorist cell because al-Rashad was not the kind of man who would allow himself to be captured or imprisoned. After he checked his weapons one more time, Carlos made his final charge into the smoke-filled workroom.

Al-Rashad ran at him, too, yelling in Arabic. Bullets flew and both Carlos and al-Rashad suffered several serious wounds. Carlos was hit in the leg once and in the upper chest several times, but his bullet-proof vest protected his heart. Al-Rashad died instantly as two of Carlos' bullets entered and exited his skull. Unfortunately, there was no time for a victory dance.

Carlos hobbled over to the dazed Tank and helped the big man onto his feet. Ducking low to avoid the smoke and heat, they ran as best as they could toward the only way out of the building. They had just reached the threshold of the door when one of the burning ammunition crates caused a chain reaction of explosions, which blasted both men out into the street and knocked them unconscious. Bobby and Lester ran to pull their buddies to safety, but they were pelted with burning debris that rained down on all four men as explosion after explosion tore apart the warehouse. Fire quickly engulfed the crumbling old building and the searing heat singed everyone's clothes.

Ambulances and fire trucks arrived on the scene almost immediately and Bobby and Lester assisted the medical personnel by providing essential information while they worked on Tank and Carlos, as well as Lars and Silvio, who both were still unconscious. By the time the ambulances were ready to pull away, Silvio had regained enough consciousness to explain a few things and give specific directions to his fellow FBI agents.

"Listen to me," Silvio said with a strength he didn't know he possessed, "these military men were never _here_, you understand? Take them to one of the university hospitals. Tell the ER docs it was a live-fire training exercise gone wrong or something. Encourage the doctors to keep them sedated until we can send a team in to debrief them. From the looks of things, you won't have to do much persuading. Look, I don't care what you have to say, _this never happened_. You got that?"

Only when he was satisfied that the confidentiality of their mission wouldn't be compromised, did Silvio allow himself and Lars to be carted off to a different hospital. Lester climbed into the ambulance with a moaning Tank, who was semi-conscious and in agony over the many pieces of cement and brick that had become embedded all down the back side of his body during the explosion. Bobby got into the ambulance with a dazed Carlos, whose body was bleeding profusely from his many wounds.

"Hang in there, Superman," Bobby tried to soothe his tense commander as the EMT injected anesthesia into his IV bag. "None of this stuff is made of kryptonite. Just be calm and take a nice nap. You're gonna be alright."

"_Babe,_" was the last word Carlos uttered before he slipped into a deep and troubled sleep.

**TBC**


	36. Chapter 36 Chapter 120

**CHAPTER 120**

_Bobby's POV_

"_Yessir_. Sergeant James is still in surgery. No, sir."

The noise in the ER was distracting and it was hard to hear Col. Striker over the constant stream of orders and shouts coming from the nurses and doctors. I also received a dirty glare from the head nurse so I slipped outside to continue the call.

"As for Capt. Mañoso… the swelling is increasing, sir. The doctor is recommending a medically induced coma because he isn't quieting down, even with the stronger sedative." I was standing just outside the ER doors and could see three nurses trying to hold down a delirious Carlos. I needed to get back in there. "Capt. Mañoso gave his medical power of attorney to his cousin and he is the only one who can authorize such an action. Permission to call him, sir?"

"Permission granted. Get Mañoso whatever he needs. Have you and Santos been treated?"

"Yes, sir. Minor injuries only."

"Alright. Report regularly on both Mañoso and James' condition. And, Brown, until we can be sure we eliminated the entire Al Qaeda cell, this needs to be kept quiet. A team is already at the explosion site to contain it. And expect a team from the FBI to debrief all four of you when the situation permits it."

"I understand, sir. Any word on Larsen and Jimenez?"

"Just that they're both still in surgery. If you and Santos hadn't gotten them out when you did, they wouldn't even have that chance. The warehouse burned completely."

"We don't leave men behind, sir."

"_Hooah!_ And Brown, good job." The colonel disconnected.

Good job, my ass! None of our team should have received more than a few bruises, but instead, Tank was in surgery getting pieces of a brick wall cut out of his body and Carlos had both gunshot and knife wounds and a severe concussion. Now, his brain was swelling and the docs wanted to dump him into a coma until the pressure building up within his brain was reduced. _Fuck!_ After surviving the predicted ninety percent fatality rate of our Iraqi mission, we come back home to this.

The only good part about it was that SOB al-Rashad was dead. Damn, he was one heartless bastard. I still can't believe the gruesome way he murdered his partner in crime. That poor girl never had a chance. Yeah, she was a traitor, but to have your neck snapped while your terrorist lover is… Bobby shook his head in disgust.

"Mr. Brown?"

I turned around and was face to face with Dr. Livingston, the neurosurgeon who had recommended putting Carlos in a medically induced coma. I'd spent the past two hours with Dr. Livingston and was impressed by his calm demeanor and quick assessment of Carlos' rapidly deteriorating condition. I was grateful the ER doctor had immediately called in a specialist to assess Carlos' condition while the ER staff tended to his other wounds. The ER doc and the neurosurgeon had agreed that inducing a coma was the best course of action.

"Mr. Brown, if we're going to help your friend, we need to do it soon. Have you contacted Mr. Mañoso's next of kin?" Dr. Livingston asked.

I rubbed my hand over my mouth and chin, knowing that would be the last thing Carlos would want – his family, and in particular his father, hovering over his bedside, especially when he couldn't get up and walk out.

In response, I informed him, "Mr. Mañoso has assigned his medical power of attorney over to his cousin. I'll put in a call to him now."

Thank heaven for cell phones. I did a quick check with 411. Within a few seconds I had Mateo Herrera's office number and called. "Hello, I need to speak with Mr. Herrera," I said, after the woman who answered had finished announcing the law firm's impressively long name.

"I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Herrera isn't available. Would you like to speak with one of his associates?"

"No. It's imperative that I speak with Mr. Herrera personally. And I need to talk with him immediately. He holds the medical power of attorney for a friend of mine who's been in… an accident. This is a life or death situation."

From the sounds coming over the phone, the woman was obviously scrambling around her desk and then muted voices could be heard. When she came back on the line, she was breathless. "Mr. Herrera is out of the country. Actually, he's on vacation with his family. A Caribbean Disney cruise. I'm sorry to say that before he left he informed me he planned to turn his phone off and devote the entire week to his family. I can try to contact him, but I don't know if he'll get the message in time." I could hear the sincere regret in her voice.

I leaned my head back against the rough brick wall and exhaled deeply before requesting in my nicest yet firmest voice, "Give me his cellphone number and which cruise ship he's on. I'll take it from there." And then remembering I was dealing with civilians, I added, "Please."

It took talking to the firm's senior partner to get the information I needed. And the secretary was right, Carlos' cousin had turned off his phone. I called the ship directly, and after the frustration of being routed through three different cruise ship employees, whom I mentally dubbed Mickey Mouse, Daffy Duck and Goofy, I was finally able to speak to the staff captain, who was, in essence, the second in command. He took my number and assured me he would find Mr. Herrera immediately and make sure that he knew the gravity of the situation. True to his word, ten minutes later Mateo Herrera called me. I explained the situation and was able to put Mateo and Dr. Livingston together and the necessary authorization was given for Carlos' emergency medical treatment to proceed.

Unfortunately, Mateo must have called Carlos' father immediately after that because in less than two hours a very worried and demanding Mr. Mañoso showed up at the hospital. It would soon be nightfall, and while it had already been a long eventful day for our team the night ahead promised to be even longer.

I introduced myself to Mr. Mañoso as a friend of Carlos' and explained his injuries and medical situation as best I could, but of course, I couldn't answer his questions about why and how his son had been injured. Nor could I tell him why his son was back in the States and hadn't called his family. I also couldn't explain that we had been tracking down and battling a dangerous Al Qaeda terrorist cell, so I gave him a vague story about a gas explosion in an old warehouse. I could see he didn't believe me, but fortunately, he was more concerned with his son's prognosis than the cause of the injuries. And it could have been worse. The entire Mañoso clan could have descended upon the hospital, each with their own searching questions. Carlos' father explained that he had wanted to come first and see just how bad his son's injuries were before he broke the news to his wife and the rest of his family.

I told Mr. Mañoso that his son had been placed in a medically induced coma. With anger in his voice, he asked me why he, Carlos' father, hadn't been called before taking such extreme measures. I took a deep mental sigh and informed him that Carlos had assigned his medical power of attorney over to his lawyer, Mateo Herrera. Mr. Mañoso's jaw tightened perceptibly and then his face turned red. This was obviously news to him and he wasn't pleased.

I watched as Mr. Mañoso approached the ICU room where Carlos had been moved to when 1 the doctors induced the coma. I had explained to Mr. Mañoso that, even under heavy sedation, Carlos had been very agitated and his constant thrashing around threatened to only increase the swelling of his brain. Now, Carlos was lying on a hospital bed, deathly still, and had multiple wires and tubes attached to him with machines quietly beeping all around him. Even I had a hard time seeing my friend so still and pale. The Captain normally had a commanding presence and calling him Superman wasn't a stretch at all. Now he appeared small and vulnerable, as if the bandages he wore were made of kryptonite, shutting down all Superman's internal power.

Mr. Mañoso stood in the doorway and as he took in the sight of his son lying so still in the hospital bed he slumped against the doorjamb. I rushed to his side and supported him until I could maneuver him onto one of the chairs in the room. After staring at his son for awhile, in a hoarse whisper he asked, "Can he hear me?"

A controversial question. "He may not be able to respond, but personally, I believe he can hear your voice, which should be a comfort to him." I knew there was some kind of strain between Carlos and his father, but I had to believe having family by his side would help my friend heal.

Family dynamics were a strange thing. If my father was here and I was lying in that bed, Dad would be tempted to crawl in next to me. Mom would definitely be lying by my side, constantly stroking my forehead and adjusting the wires and tubes to make me more comfortable, or maybe just to keep her hands busy so she wouldn't break down and cry. However, Mr. Mañoso sat as still in his chair as Carlos lay still in the bed. Both men seemed pale and lost. There was no reaching out to hold his son's hand or even touch him. Watching the awkwardness was too hard, so I left to check on Tank and see how his surgery had gone. I'd send Lester up to watch over Carlos and deal with Mr. Mañoso.

_Ricardo's POV_

I did not want to believe the motionless man lying in that hospital bed was my son. He seemed smaller and so pale. Not the strong, confident and vital man that epitomized my son. Carlos had never been meek. He was usually quiet, but there had always been an underlying strength and a sense of power within him. That was all gone now and it scared me.

I remembered back to that awful night when I had confessed to Teresa the truth about how I had met Estefania and what her relationship was to our son. Teresa was furious with me for once again chastising Carlos about his refusal to honor me and not come to work at _Rosa's _and for arguing with him just before he was to leave on his latest mission. I remembered how quickly I had dismissed her fears that we might lose our youngest son this time. All she could think about was his mission's projected ninety percent fatality rate. I had rejected that as nonsense. And now, to have that possibility staring me right in the face. _¡Dios mío!_

Most of my family were physically demonstrative, although Carlos and I rarely touched, let alone hugged. But I needed to connect to my son now and let him know I was here for him. I reached out and touched his arm and he did not pull back. A part of me worried that even in this god-awful state he was in, he would still rebuff me. I turned his hand over so I could hold it in mine. I remembered when he was a little boy and we would walk, he would always want to hold my hand. That phase did not last long and it was the only time he had ever allowed me to be close to him. That was well over twenty years ago.

Carlos' hand was cold and limp and a jolt of fear shot through me. He looked and felt… dead. I heard the words tumble out of my mouth, but my shaky voice was unrecognizable, _"¡Dulce María, madre de Jesús!_ Please do not take my precious son away from me. I cannot lose him now, knowing he hates me. I need more time; _we_ need more time. I must have time to apologize to him, to tell him how proud I am of him. _And that I love him_!" I bowed my head, unable to look at the pale, motionless body before me. [_Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus!_]

I had said so many Hail Marys the last few months as penance for my prideful sins, the words came unbidden to my lips. "Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros, pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen." [_Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. __Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen_.]

Leaning over, I pressed my lips to Carlos' palm and a tear fell from my brimming eyes on that very spot as I rose back up.

Startled by a loud insistent beeping that suddenly sounded from one of the machines, I looked up to see flashing numbers and jumping lines on one of the screens. One number in particular was increasing each time it flashed. To my surprise, the room was quickly filled with nurses and doctors. One of the nurses hurriedly pushed me out of the room, ignoring my questions. All their attention was focused on my unmoving son.

I stood outside looking in as they checked the machines and examined Carlos. I could see no difference in his face, but obviously, something had happened, and not something good. Had Carlos sensed my presence? Did he hate me so much that my mere touch could distress him so?

A strapping young Latino with a shaved head approached me in the hall and asked if I was Mr. Mañoso. When I nodded, he held out his bandaged hand and introduced himself. "I'm Lester Santos, a friend of your son's. It was Bobby Brown and I that brought him to the hospital."

We shook hands and I realized the name was familiar to me. I had to ask, "Are you any relation to Rafael Santos of Santos Jewelry in Newark?" Rafael and I had been a part of the same Newark Latin business owners association for years.

This young man, this friend of my son's – apparently wounded in the same 'accident' as Carlos – grinned at me and nodded, "That's my father, sir. The Santos' have been the lead jewelers in Newark since the 40s." Then, the young man tilted his head toward the commotion in Carlos' room and asked, "Do you know what's happening in there?"

I could only shake my head and hope that I had nothing to do with Carlos' sudden episode. I looked at this intense man standing next to me and realized he must be a soldier, like my son. I seem to remember Carlos mentioning some of his military friends, but I hadn't paid much attention. Another example of how I had failed him.

Like Mr. Brown before him, Lester Santos was wearing badly stained and dirty clothes and his face and arms had several bandages on them. If he had brought Carlos to the hospital, he must have been with him when he was injured. These men were undoubtedly still operating under military orders. Were they still in danger? Could that danger follow them to this hospital?

We both stood staring into the ICU room filled with bustling men and women in blue scrubs as they hovered over my son's immobile body. Carlos had always called his mother when he was through with a mission and there had been no call this time. But Carlos was here in Philadelphia, and he had been injured here, not in some far away country. I had so many questions…

I turned back to the young man standing next to me. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lester Santos. Your father and I have known each other for years. I have met only a few of Carlos' military friends. Do you know a man by the name of Pierre James?"

Lester Santos' mouth twitched as I mentioned Mr. James, but he nodded and his face was somber as he answered my question, "Tank, I mean, Sergeant James, is in the recovery room. He just had surgery. Doctors say he's gonna be sore, but he'll be fine."

"I am sorry to hear that Sergeant James was injured, too. A little later, after he is awake, may I visit with him?" He nodded again and then glanced toward Carlos' room. I had to ask, "What happened to injure all of you and hurt my son so badly that he must be put in a coma?"

The young man straightened and his face took on the blank expression I was so familiar with from my son. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mañoso, but that information is confi-"

An older man in a white coat came striding out of Carlos' room and positioned himself directly in between us, rudely interrupting our conversation. He introduced himself as Dr. Livingston and, without any more formality, asked me if I had noticed any change in Carlos before the machines had gone crazy. "Did your son move at all or open his eyes or make a sound?"

I looked him up and down before answering. This man clearly had no manners. I was terse with my answers. "No. There was no movement, no sound. I was praying. I held his hand." A chill ran through me as I again wondered if Carlos' episode was a result of me touching him. I could not help but ask, "Should I not have touched him?" I could not read this man, this doctor who held my son's life in his hands.

The doctor's gaze was focused on the room behind me as he replied, "I don't see how that would have triggered such a rapid rise in his heart rate or the erratic spiking of the EEG. He shouldn't be able to respond to stimulus of any kind, not under the type of anesthesia we have him on. But…"

I interrupted him. "Doctor, is my son going to die?"

He finally looked me in the eye and gave me the standard pap you hear on every TV hospital drama scene. "We are doing everything we can to prevent that from happening." A nurse touched his arm and whispered something to him and he barked an order at her and then turned back to me. "Your son's vital signs have stabilized, but it's critical that he remain calm and motionless."

I felt like he was blaming me for Carlos' downturn, but this was the man who was responsible for my son's current comatose condition. "I was told by Mr. Brown that you purposely put my son in a coma? Is that right?"

"Your son sustained a severe head injury, and his brain was swelling rapidly which could result in brain damage and eventually death. We weren't able to reduce the edema through other methods so we are now administering a steady dose of propofol and other drugs to cause a temporary deep state of unconsciousness or what is commonly referred to as a medically induced coma. By doing this we hope to reduce the intracranial pressure as well as slow the cerebral blood flow. If we cannot control the brain swelling this way, we may have to perform a cranioectomy which requires removing part of his skull to prevent further damage to his brain."

I could feel the blood drain from my face. "Good Lord! I had no idea. How long will my son have to remain in this… this coma?"

"We should know more about his prognosis by this time tomorrow. We'll do another CT scan then to see if the swelling has decreased. In the meantime, we are monitoring him constantly, which is why all those machines are in there with him." The doctor's pager went off and he paused to glance at the screen and then continued, "It may be best if your son doesn't have any visitors until then. I don't know if your presence had anything to do with the sudden spike in his heart rate, but it's best not to take chances."

My own heart nearly stopped. "You are telling me I cannot even sit by my own son's bedside? When my wife, his sainted mother, gets here she will demand to see him and when _my_ _mother_ arrives, you will not be able to keep her from him." And that was the truth!

I had purposely not called Teresa yet until I knew more about Carlos' condition, but I could not put off the inevitable forever. And Teresa would fly to this hospital and bring the family with her. If just my presence could make him worse, imagine what a roomful of crying women could do? And what of my mother? At her age just the shock of seeing her beloved Carlito lying so still and pale, as if in death, would give her a heart attack.

Maybe… Possibly… Do I dare not tell the family? Do I give Carlos the 24 hours the doctor advised until he would know more about Carlos' prognosis? What possible excuse could I give Teresa for me leaving the restaurant before dinner service had even begun? And as for staying away overnight? _¡Ay caramba!_

Maybe if I told Teresa an old friend was sick and requested my presence? No! She would want to know the details and I would have to make up more falsehoods. Dios tenga misericordia. [_God have mercy._]

It was very late, too late for Teresa or any of my family to make the trip and I knew she hated driving at night. I decided to call my dear wife and explain this terrible situation and implore her not to come until tomorrow. I would assure her that Carlos was stable, but was in the ICU and was not allowed visitors. Hopefully, by tomorrow this will have changed or heaven help the hospital staff.

**TBC**


	37. Chapter 37 Chapter 121

**CHAPTER 121**

_Mateo's POV_

The cab couldn't move fast enough for me. It was just before dawn, but there was still traffic on the streets. Ever since I'd received the call from Carlos' Army friend, such terrible thoughts and horrible images filled my head. I'd always known Carlos could be injured, and yes, even killed in service to his country. But to have this happen here, on American soil… that I'd never contemplated. And why was Carlos back in the States?

I'd left Lucia and the children on the ship and disembarked at the next port. I'd had to take a couple of puddle jumpers to reach the mainland and then take a commercial flight into Philadelphia. There were still two days left on the Disney cruise that had been a gift from Carlos. Ironic that it was because of Carlos that I'd had to cut the trip short. At least the kids would enjoy the rest of the cruise, though I doubted Lucia would, now that I was gone. I'd tried to call her when I landed at the airport here, but my cell phone needed recharging. I'd have to wait until I got to the hospital to make calls to anyone.

It had been a wonderful vacation for all of us and much needed. But Carlos needed me more. What could have happened to him that the doctors had had to induce a coma? I dreaded what I might find once I got there. Would this blasted taxi ever get to the hospital?

When I finally arrived and found my way to the information desk, I was directed to the waiting room next to the ICU unit. And there was Tío Ricardo, sitting by himself, with what looked like a notepad in his lap and a pencil in his hand. A quick glance at the notepad, before my uncle hurriedly closed it, revealed a pencil drawing of Carlos. In the sketch it looked like Carlos was sleeping. The sketch was quite good. I had no idea Tío Ricardo indulged in any artistic pursuits, let alone that he was so talented at it. But there were more important, more immediate matters to discuss.

After a brief hug, I fired off the questions that had dominated my mind ever since receiving the call from Carlos' friend. My uncle couldn't answer most of them and I could see he was becoming increasingly agitated the more I pumped him. He looked awful and I realized he'd spent the entire night here in the waiting room with no sleep and probably too much bad coffee. He was upset and not thinking clearly.

I found the nurses' station and, as luck would have it, Carlos' doctor was making early morning rounds. We went to Carlos' room together and I asked my questions while the doctor examined my 'sleeping' cousin. It was a shock seeing Carlos motionless and hooked up to all those machines. I could understand why my uncle was so worried.

In the short time I had with Dr. Livingston, I learned a lot about brain trauma and the induced coma Carlos was in. The good news was the doctor was hopeful that the brain swelling Carlos was experiencing would decrease quickly and they could stop the anesthesia and let the rest of his injuries heal naturally. I found out Carlos had a gunshot wound to the leg, a knife wound in his side, several serious bruises to his chest and numerous cuts and burns to his arms and back. As bad as they were, all those injuries would heal, but only time would tell about his brain. The doctor warned me of possible complications, including brain damage. Just the thought that my cousin, so skilled in strategic thinking and critical decision-making, might suffer a loss of mental capacity made me ill. Dr. Livingston told me he would know more when he got the results of a CT scan he'd ordered for later that afternoon.

When I returned to the waiting room, I found two imposing men standing with my uncle. Tío Ricardo introduced me to them as Carlos' soldier friends and the men who'd brought Carlos to the hospital. I recognized Bobby Brown's voice as the man who'd called me while I was still on the cruise ship. Both men had bandages on their arms and faces and their clothes were dirty and reeked of smoke. That clinched the notion that Carlos was injured not in an accident, but as a result of his military job. After exchanging a few polite pleasantries, I relayed the updated information about Carlos' condition that I'd received from Dr. Livingston. Bobby Brown and Lester Santos seemed visibly relieved. Tío Ricardo, however, sank into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.

I sat next to him and placed my hand on his back. Tío Ricardo looked up at me and with a shaky voice asked, "How do I explain to his mother, to his grandmother, that their beloved Carlito has so many terrible injuries and is in a coma? His sisters will also be beside themselves with worry. How can I console them when… I, too, am frightened for my son?"

Lester Santos sat on the other side of my uncle and gave him a stern look. "Carlos is the strongest man I know and that's saying a lot. He didn't survive this fuckin' lousy mission to lose in the final hour. _Have faith in your son_, Mr. Mañoso. Superman never gives up and he always defeats the bad guy. Carlos is gonna beat this and he'll be stronger than ever. You'll see." He clapped his big hand on my uncle's shoulder and gave it a firm shake.

My uncle had listened intently and when Lester mentioned having faith, Tío Ricardo perked up a little. "Que Dios le bendiga," he said [_God bless you_], "for reminding me of my son's strength and determination. He has so much to live for, especially now that he has his beloved novía. And it is good to know he has such loyal and supportive friends."

And then my uncle's mouth dropped open and he briefly closed his eyes. "_Dios mío!_ Estefania! She does not know. How do I tell that sweet innocent girl that her beloved hovers at death's door? She loves him so much and they have had so little time together. This will devastate her!" He dropped his head back into his hands and his body shuddered.

I patted his back trying to calm him. "Tío Ricardo, we'll do this together. I'll call Estefania. We must be strong for the women. They will need us."

That did the trick. He straightened up, took a deep breath and put on an expression of calm control. I could see Carlos in him in that moment. My uncle took his familial obligations very seriously, sometimes too seriously. "Yes, Mateo. We must be stoic and put on a positive face in front of the women. Last night, I convinced Teresa to wait until this morning to come here, but she and, I imagine, the rest of the family will be here any time now. I must talk to the doctors about the family being able to see Carlos. Teresa and Mama will insist on it."

"OK, but right now, you need a break. It's been a long night for you. I'll stay here and watch over Carlos while you go freshen up. You'll feel better after you splash some water on your face. And Tío, may I borrow your phone? Mine needs to be recharged." My uncle handed over his cell to me and exited the waiting room. Lester left to see to their other friend who was recovering from surgery. Bobby was kind enough to accompany my uncle as he made his way down the hall to the restroom, clutching his notepad to his chest. I'd never seen my uncle so distraught. While he readily showed his anger or displeasure, to see the vulnerable, softer side of him was rare.

I knew what was next on my list of things to do and for once, my wife was bumped down to Number 2. It was still early morning and I hoped to catch Stephanie before she left for work. I walked down the hall and stepped outside the door of the ER lobby.

Stephanie didn't answer her phone, instead the call went to voice mail. I left a message asking her to call me at her earliest convenience. I hated leaving so vague a message, but I didn't want to drop the bombshell that Carlos was back in the States and badly injured and then not be able to immediately explain the situation to her.

When I returned to the ICU waiting room, I was engulfed by a sea of Mañoso women, all clamoring for answers. Tía Teresa had brought all four of her daughters; they must have arrived just as I was trying to call Steph. Each woman fired questions at me while slipping their arms around my waist, seeking comforting hugs. I was surprised to see my own mother here, though I shouldn't have been. My mama had been a mother to Carlos when he lived with us during his teen years. She was staying close to Tía Teresa who looked scared and pale. The one noticeable woman absent was Rosa.

"Where's Abuela Rosa?" I asked Tía Teresa.

Distracted, she muttered, "She's in Hawaii with her husband." My aunt then grabbed my arm and cried, "Where's Carlos? Where is my son?" The other women in the room crowded around me, each shouting the same question.

Celia dug her nails into my forearm and demanded, "Mateo, take us to our brother. Now!"

"Ow! Celia, calm down, please." I extracted my cousin's fingers from my arm and rubbed it to take away the sting of her sharp nails. Cringing inside, I knew when I told her about Carlos' coma that I would feel the sting of her razor sharp tongue as well. Where was Tío Ricardo? He should be taking the brunt of his family's frustrations, not me.

"Please, everyone, sit down for a minute. I need to explain a little about Carlos' condition before you see him." That got their attention. Unfortunately, they just turned up the volume as they simultaneously shouted more questions at me.

"What's wrong with him?" cried a very pregnant Lena, holding her bulging belly with both hands.

Shouting over her sister, Pilar questioned, "How can Carlos be here in the States? He wasn't supposed to be home for another year."

"Is he sick?" asked Maria, "or was he wounded?" And then, ever the dramatic one, she asked in a hushed whisper, "Is he dying?" She shrank under the withering glares from her sisters.

Celia probed me for answers, "He's badly injured, isn't he? Has he lost an arm or a leg or…?" Seeing something in my face, she turned as pale as her mother. "Mat, don't tell me it's even worse?"

Even my own mother joined the fray of frightened, shouting women. "No, not Carlos. He can't be seriously hurt. Mateo, please… tell us… tell us what happened," my mother pleaded.

I held up both hands and again requested they all sit down. Tío Ricardo chose that moment to enter the waiting room and the volume of shouts increased tenfold. My aunt and four cousins rushed to him, yelling out the same questions they'd asked me.

He kissed his wife and hugged his daughters. "Querida, mis hijas, this is a terrible time, but, _God willing_, we will get through it soon and have Carlos back home with us, strong and healthy." [_Dear, my daughters,_]

"Get through _what_?" cried Tía Teresa and then she pushed on my uncle's chest crying, "What happened? You told me _nothing_ last night. Why is our son in the hospital?"

Tío Ricardo turned to me. "You haven't told them?"

"I've been trying, but they won't settle down and let me explain."

My uncle took charge and got all the women quiet and sitting in the waiting room chairs, and then they all looked expectantly at me. I took a deep breath and began my explanation from when I'd received the onboard phone call from Bobby Brown. Of course, this started a new set of questions as to why _I _was called instead of the immediate family and then, where were Lucia and the kids. I'd already been up for more than 30 hours without sleep and my patience was wearing thin. But I knew my family was worried and frightened, so I swallowed my own frustrations and tried to explain Carlos' condition. Again, that began another round of frantic questions about Carlos' future prognosis and then, why was he back in the States and how did he get injured.

In a fit of near panic, Tía Teresa jumped up and ran out of the room. I went after her as she began searching each ICU room for Carlos. I was right in back of her when she looked into Carlos' room and saw him, bandaged and lying in a bed hooked up to a dozen machines with a tangle of wires and tubes coming out of his body. She let out a small cry and her knees gave out. I caught her just in time before she collapsed. By then, the rest of the family was crowding in behind us. I held out my hand to stop everyone from shoving into the room while still trying to support my aunt.

The hubbub attracted a nurse who immediately took charge of my distraught family. I let Tío Ricardo help his wife to the chair next to Carlos' bed while the nurse and I took my cousins and my mother back to the waiting room. The nurse explained to them that it was best to only have one person at a time in Carlos' room and to keep any talk around him positive and low-key. She was able to answer all the medical questions they had, but I knew they would turn to me to ask why Carlos was back in the States and how had he been injured and I didn't have those answers.

_Rosa's POV_

The business trip to Hawaii was better than I had expected. Dawson surprised me with a deluxe suite in the Rainbow Tower of the Hilton Hawaiian Village Resort and Spa. The view of Waikiki was simply breathtaking, but I had a lot of time on my own. For the first day or so, I relaxed at the beach as my body tried to adjust to the different time zone. Being on a tropical island always reminded me of my youth in Cuba. It was heavenly to listen to the ocean and smell the salty air and indulge my taste for fresh tropical fruits, such as mangoes and coconuts.

With so much free time on my hands, I entertained myself by taking a few tours to various sites on the island of Oahu. Unfortunately, when I visited Pearl Harbor and saw the USS Arizona Memorial, I could not stop myself from thinking and worrying about my grandson, Carlos. Peering down through the murky water at the sea graves of so many brave sailors, my heart clenched with fear and sadness. I said a prayer for all those souls and their families. Then I said a prayer for the sons and daughters of today's military conflicts.

For my next excursion, I decided to do something that would not remind me of my grandson. I rode the bus across the island and toured the Dole Pineapple plantation before heading to the famous North Shore of Oahu. There were several families on the beach that day and it was good to hear the laughter of the children as they played in tidal pools and frolicked in the sand. Watching the daring surfers navigate the gigantic waves of the ocean was exhilarating. My old bones could never bear such a pounding, but I knew that if I was just twenty years younger, I might have tried surfing lessons.

I truly enjoyed my solitary adventures, however, at the end of the fourth day of contract negotiations, I finally asked Dawson if he could spare Stephanie for an hour or so. There were times when I noticed her daydreaming and smiling to herself and it seemed to me she was more relaxed and at peace than ever before. This, of course, made me highly suspicious and I was sure I knew the reason. I desperately wanted to speak with her in private and my wonderful husband made it happen. He is such an understanding man!

Dawson arranged for a limousine to pick us up at the hotel and drive us over to Diamond Head. When we were done, we would meet him at the restaurant where he and the rest of the business associates had dinner reservations. Then we would return to our hotel for the fireworks display the concierge had encouraged me to view from the balcony of our room, or lanai, as he called it. I felt very much like a "woman of mystery" when I slid into the soft seat of the limo and Stephanie climbed in after me.

"Oh, Rosa!" she exclaimed. "This is so nice! I was wondering when you and I would have a chance to get away from everyone else."

Nodding, I said, "Yes, I know. We all have been so busy this week. You and Dawson and your people have been in all those meetings. And I have been enjoying myself as a tourist."

Then I told her about my various adventures. By the time I finished telling my tales, we had arrived at Diamond Head State Park. The limousine driver parked so that Stephanie and I could get out and wander up the trail to see the magnificent view of Waikiki. The lush green scenery and the blue expanse of ocean truly took our breath away. We both agreed she should bring Carlos to Hawaii someday after they were married.

"I don't know if I'd want to come here for our honeymoon, but it's definitely high on my list of future vacation spots," she admitted, her face aglow with a pretty blush.

I watched her closely and knew it was time to get to the heart of the matter. I slid my arm through the crook of Stephanie's elbow as we started to make our way back to the limousine and I leaned in to speak to her.

"I have been watching you, you know. And there is only one thing I know of that could put the twinkle back in your eye, a pretty blush on your cheeks and the occasional sly grin on your face. You have much to tell me, dear Stephanie, and I want to hear everything. How is my grandson and when did you talk to him?"

Stephanie was very quiet for a few heartbeats. I could tell she was wrestling with her conscience, but I wanted information and would not stop digging until I got it. She began to chew on her lower lip and I smiled.

"It is all right, my dear," I said and I patted her hand. "We have not had a chance to chat like this, but now that we are alone, I need you to tell me everything. You know I will not tell a soul about Carlos contacting you, not even his mother. Not even Dawson. This is just between you and me, I promise. How is he?"

"He's still on his mission," Stephanie said evasively.

"But you _have_ talked with him recently, yes?" I pressed and we stopped walking.

She finally crumbled under my penetrating stare. Yes, it was a dirty trick, but it has been effective forever; first with my own sons and then with my grandchildren. Rarely can anyone resist my efforts at getting information, especially when I give them "the Stare."

"Yes," Stephanie sighed. "It was a … a surprise. Carlos came to see me. He was … he looked … good."

I held my breath. _Carlos was back in the States?_ This was wonderful news! I had to know more. I continued to stare at her.

"Okay, okay, I know you want details," she held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'll tell you what I can. The rest is, um, private. Just between Carlos and me. Okay?"

I nodded, telling myself I would be happy with even a little bit of good news.

"First of all, he's all right," Stephanie said. "At least, he was when he had to leave me again."

"When and where did you see my grandson?" I asked impatiently. "It must have been a very quick visit, especially since he did not see fit to let anyone else know of his return."

She looked a little alarmed. "No one is supposed to know that he is back in the States… he promised me to secrecy."

"Of course, my dear. Of course," I nodded and motioned her to continue.

She smiled shyly and replied, "He surprised me at the hotel where we first met. This happened just a couple of days before this trip."

"Oh, how sweet!" I gushed, happy to know my grandson was still such a romantic boy.

"Well … not really," Stephanie shook her head. "At least, not at first."

Then she proceeded to tell me about her previous hallucinations in London and Japan and how she thought she was going crazy when she first saw Carlos again after so much time apart. She told me they had had an amazing reunion, but she did not need to tell me about the wild sex she and my handsome grandson must have had. I know my Carlito is a lusty, virile man and I will always remember what I witnessed in the parking lot at _Rosa's_.

Satisfied that all was well between Stephanie and Carlos, I linked arms with her again and we returned to the limousine. On the way to the restaurant, we chatted about her friend Tina's wedding plans. It was good to know one of Carlos' Army friends was a boy from our community. Of course, I had known of the Santos family and their jewelry business for many years. I informed Stephanie that I even owned several necklaces and rings and other pieces of fine jewelry, which had been designed by Lester Santos' very talented grandfather. Our journey to the restaurant seemed to take a very short time and I was grateful for the opportunity to speak with my future granddaughter-in-law. Little did I know that evening would be the last happy evening I would have for quite awhile.

_Ricardo's POV_

The bracing cold water on my face certainly helped to revive me. After I finished in the restroom, I asked Bobby Brown if he would take me to see his friend Pierre James, or Tank as he preferred to be called.

Bobby escorted me to a lower floor where we heard shouting coming from one of the rooms. We found Tank wide awake and none too happy at being confined to a hospital bed. Lester Santos was also in the room, gathering up pieces of clothing and moving them out of reach of his friend's long arms.

"The doctor hasn't released you yet, you whiner," Lester was saying. "And you're gonna stay in bed until he gives the all clear, you hear? Besides, that nurse of yours is a mighty fine looker. What are you complaining about? If you play your cards right, maybe you can get her to give you a sponge bath and then…" Bobby cleared his throat noisily and Lester finally noticed our presence and had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Mr. Mañoso, maybe you can talk some sense into this hard-headed galoot. The doctor wants him to stay in bed another day to let his wounds heal a little. They had to cut out a pound or more of shrapnel from his backside and some of those new holes in his arse are pretty deep," Lester said, with a nasty chuckle.

Tank rolled his eyes and then looked over at me, holding out his bandaged hand. "Mr. Mañoso, it's been awhile since we've seen each other."

I moved to his bedside and we shook hands. "It is good to see you again, Pierre, uh, Tank."

"I wish it were under better circumstances," Tank replied. "How's Carlos doing?" I relayed the information Mateo had told us and I asked Tank about his injuries, which he readily dismissed as minor.

I did not think I would get very far, but I had to try again. "How did you boys get injured? My son is in a coma and I do not know why. Please, tell me something, anything, that will help this all make sense."

The three men exchanged glances and Bobby reluctantly sighed and said, "I can't reveal any details, and the official story is that we were injured in a training exercise gone wrong. But confidentially, I'll tell you that our mission was successful and that your son performed brilliantly. It was his skills and abilities that kept us alive and enabled us to discover and then dismantle a serious threat to our national security. He saved a lot of lives. You should be proud of him, Mr. Mañoso. We are!"

I'd never thought of Carlos as a hero, but these soldiers were all nodding and I could feel the admiration they had for my son. I was beginning to realize that Carlos had more than earned these brave men's respect and loyalty under dangerous and harrowing situations I would never fully comprehend, never having been a soldier myself. Seeing my son through his comrades' eyes gave me a new perspective. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I appreciate the service all of you do for this great country of ours. May I ask if the threat, the mission you have been on, is finished?"

Again, the men looked at each other before Bobby spoke again. "Yes, sir. As I said, our mission was accomplished and we were successful in achieving our objectives. We now have a short break before our next assignment. That includes Carlos." My relief must have showed in my face and posture as the three men smiled at me. I stayed and talked with them a while longer and then returned to the ICU where I found my womenfolk besieging Mateo.

After I calmed the women down, I helped my worried family, one by one, adjust to seeing Carlos in a coma. Watching the tears flow so freely from my wife and my daughters' eyes broke my heart. They each became distraught seeing poor Carlos lying in that hospital bed still as death, attached to all those machines. If it had been anyone but Carlos it would not have been as shocking. But this was Carlos – my strong, fearless son who always exuded such power and vitality. For his sisters and his mother, even his aunt, to see him like that, so still, so weak and so vulnerable was disturbing, to say the least. My girls kept turning to me for answers, and for comfort, and I was unable to console them. I felt powerless and I did not like the feeling, not one bit.

I kept in touch with Alejandro by phone, informing him of his brother's situation. The calls were also to instruct him on important business matters as they regarded the running of _Rosa's_, but Alejandro insisted that he wanted to come to Philadelphia to be with Carlos. I told him repeatedly there was nothing he could do here except sit and I insisted he stay in Newark and manage the family business in my absence. The doctor had said we should know more about Carlos' condition after 24 hours and after they analyzed the results of special tests they would run in the afternoon. Until then, there was nothing any of us could do but wait.

I had called my mother several hours ago, and found out she was in Hawaii, of all places, with _that man _and with Estefania. My mother had icily informed me that Mateo had called Estefania _hours earlier_ and they were now at the airport waiting for their flight to board. I tried to tell her I had attempted to reach her earlier, however, her phone had been turned off, but Mama was determined to blame me for everything. Would she _never_ forgive me?

I had been with Teresa the first time she saw Carlos lying in that hospital bed. She nearly fainted. Her hand was trembling as she reached out to stroke his cheek. She seemed reassured by the warmth of his skin that he was indeed still alive. Without taking her eyes from her beloved Carlito's face, she asked me, "How did this happen?"

What could I tell her? The confidential information I had received from Carlos' soldier friends had not been terribly revealing and I knew so little about my own son or about what he did for a living. I had no answers. "We do not have the … uh… clearance to know that, Querida. Our son's work evidently brought him back to the States. We always knew what Carlos did was dangerous, we just never expected to see the results of it here. And now, our son is lying in a hospital bed in a coma. It is too much to bear. He should not be putting you and his sisters through such agony."

"_Hush_, Ricardo. Do not talk that way. What if he can hear us?" My Teresa ignored me and focused all her attention on Carlos. She held his hand up to her lips. "Mi Carlito, we are all here for you. We love you so much, mijo. You must fight hard and come back to us whole and healthy. My heart could not bear anything else. I want you to fight this with all your strength. Do you hear me, Ricardo Carlos Mañoso?" Her last words were said in such a loving tone, it took the sting out of using his full name, which was also my name.

I leaned over her shoulder and trying to match her parental tone, followed with, "Listen to your mother, my son. She is worrying herself sick over you. I will not have her upset, so snap out of this so we can all get back to our lives."

Before I could straighten up, Teresa dug her elbow into my ribs causing me to expel a ton of air. Jumping out of her chair, she whirled on me and shook her finger in my face. I could see the tears welling up in her beautiful brown eyes, but the set of her mouth told me she was about to let loose a string of curses upon me. With one last look at our son, she grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room. Once we were in the hall, she started my 'tongue lashing.'

"How could you? Our son is fighting for his life! And you… you just want to get back to your precious restaurant. You are just like your father. You care more for _Rosa's_ than you do for your own son, than you do for your own family." She was trembling as she ranted, fear making her tongue harsher than she intended, I was sure.

But even so, I could not believe she just accused me of being like my father. I started to protest, but she poked her finger on my chest and continued her tirade.

"You have always treated Carlos badly just because he wouldn't knuckle under and meekly do your bidding, like you did with your father. I thought you had learned your lesson about your prideful ways, but clearly you still have a lot to repent for." My wife was just getting started as she continued to tap her finger against my chest. "Right now, Carlos needs encouraging words, not more chastisement from you. At least until he is awake and well, the _only_ words I want to hear coming out of your mouth are positive, uplifting and reassuring words." Using her finger to forcefully jab me she tersely uttered, "Not. One. Negative. Word. _Promise me_, Ricardo!"

She was so beautiful, even when she was angry with me. There was no way I was going to chance her becoming so mad at me that she moved out again. And I could not deny her anything, so I did the only thing I could. "I promise, Querida," I responded. She fell into my arms and began to sob uncontrollably. My strong courageous wife broke down with worry and fear for our son and I could only hold her. I could not even tell her that things were going to be all right because I had my own doubts that Carlos could come through this unscathed. Again, I felt powerless to protect my family. It is not a feeling any man wishes to feel. My own anger started to build.

Of course, the commotion brought Carmen and our four girls out of the waiting room, each demanding to know what had happened. Teresa pushed away from me and embraced her sister who glared at me and then walked her back into the waiting room. As our daughters started to follow them, I touched Celia's arm and motioned her to follow me into Carlos' room. And one by one, Carlos' sisters took their turn sitting by his bed, holding his hand and whispering encouraging words to him while I stood in silent support, as a good father should do.

My little Lena was the last to go in for her turn to sit by Carlos' bedside. It was mid-afternoon by now and everyone was tired and stressed out. I had to be there to help her sit and to help her get back up again. My youngest daughter was nearly nine months pregnant with her first child and she should have been resting at home, not pacing here in Philadelphia, worrying about her brother. My frustration and anger grew. Lena adored her big brother and she was heartsick seeing him in this upsetting state. She started crying as soon as she entered the room. She cried as she held his motionless hand. She cried when I helped her up so she could kiss his cheek and then it happened. Her water broke. _¡Dios mio!_

Lena stared up at me with such a surprised expression and I knew my face mirrored hers. This had never happened before in my presence. Teresa had always gone to the hospital before such things had happened. And it was too soon. This should not be happening now. The baby was coming several weeks early, but there was no help for it. I supported Lena – she was breathing rapidly and uttering little cries, whether the cries were of surprise or pain I was not sure. I had never felt so useless. I could not believe the terrible turn my life had taken in the last 24 hours.

I pressed the button for the nurse's station and got an immediate response. The nurse was none too pleased to have an unexpected patient to deal with, but she handled it professionally. Within minutes there was someone there with a wheelchair to take Lena to the maternity ward. An excited Teresa and the rest of the chattering females went with her, relieved to have so happy an event take their minds off Carlos' distressing condition.

I could only hope that having her first child earlier than planned would turn out well for my youngest daughter. But it heaped another burden of worry on my shoulders.

As I sat by my son's bed, I reflected on the stress my family was suffering and my frustrations took over. "Oh, Carlos," I sighed. "It was your choice of jobs that caused this terrible thing. If you had chosen a normal job, like any normal man, this would not have happened. But, no, you had to court danger time and time again and put yourself in harm's way. I have learned you are good at your job and that your men respect you, however, it did not save you from getting hurt. And now, look at what has happened. You are lying in a hospital bed in a coma. And your dear mother and loving sisters are beside themselves with worry. So much so that your little sister has gone into premature labor. If anything happens to her or to her precious child…" I said a prayer that all would go well with Lena. But it was not just Lena I was worried about.

"I fear for your grandmother's health when she sees you in this bed. She is old and frail and she worships you. She could have a heart attack or a stroke… or worse. And what about Estefania? You profess to love her and yet you left her alone immediately after proposing marriage to her. It will break her heart to see you like this. This all could have been prevented if you had only done as I had asked and come to work with Alejandro and me." I glanced around to make sure Teresa had not heard my words and then I began a series of penance prayers that Father Brady had assigned me just a few weeks ago. It could not hurt.

**TBC**


	38. Chapter 38 Chapter 122

**CHAPTER 122**

_Stephanie's POV_

Sometimes, I hate reality. And right about now, I really hate the reality of my life. I wish I could just drop into my own coma and let them park me in a bed next to Carlos until he wakes up, all healed and healthy again. Or maybe I should just get really drunk so I can forget the terrible images that keep playing out in my head.

Ever since I talked to Mateo this morning and he told me that Carlos had been injured, all I could think about was that I couldn't lose Superman. He was invincible, right? Faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. _Oh, Carlos…we haven't even had a chance to really be together and the thought that I might lose you…_

Rosa reached across the aisle and squeezed my hand. She seemed to know just when I needed some support. We'd already made the flight from Oahu to San Francisco and we were now on our way to Philadelphia. We only told Melinda and Amanda that Rosa had a family emergency and they were very understanding about my accompanying Dawson's wife back to the mainland. I had confided to Tina the real reason we were returning to the mainland and she was full of questions, the first of them, "Was Lester involved?" I had no answers for her.

Five days ago, Dawson, Rosa and I, along with Tina, Amanda and Melinda, had flown to Hawaii together to meet with representatives from the three major Japanese department stores we felt would be best to carry the _Babe!_ line. We'd all been enjoying the tropical paradise and then Mateo had called and told me about Carlos. Immediately, my world narrowed into a single thought: _get to Carlos' side as soon as possible_.

Rosa and I had secured the last two seats on the next flight back to the mainland. Worried about Lester and unable to reach him, Tina was anxious to get home, too. She hadn't been able to get on our flight, but she was scheduled on one a few hours later. After much debate, Rosa and I'd finally convinced Dawson to stay in Hawaii with Amanda and Melinda and finish the negotiations. After signing the contracts, Dawson would meet us in Philadelphia while Amanda and Melinda returned to Newark.

The day before Mateo contacted me about Carlos' medical condition, Rosa had taken me on a little excursion to one of Oahu's state parks. It was a beautiful place, but the trip was really an excuse for Rosa to get me alone so she could ask me about my good mood. Ever since my recent rendezvous with Carlos, I had worked hard to convince my friends and co-workers that my current happiness was due to the overwhelming success of the _Babe!_ line and that I was overjoyed with the way the business negotiations were going, but Rosa wasn't so easily fooled. She said she knew that all my smiling and humming to myself meant only one thing: I had heard from Carlos. Of course, she was able to wheedle a few more details out of me, but I didn't – _couldn't_ – tell her everything.

And now we both knew that Carlos was not only back in the States again, but that his mission's dreaded fatality prediction was close to coming true. I knew Rosa was just as worried as I was about her grandson. I had only been able to get a little information out of Mateo and Rosa hadn't gotten much more out of Ricardo. And that worried us even more. We knew Carlos was in a coma, but that was about it. We took turns trying to reassure the other that he was fine, that everything would be okay, but neither of us was buying it. It just wasn't right to have Carlos survive the dangerous overseas part of his mission only to come home to this…

It seemed like we'd been flying forever and my mind was racing the entire time. Somewhere over Kansas, it dawned on me that all of Carlos' family would be there at his bedside. I touched Rosa's arm to get her attention.

"How am I going to explain to the rest of the family about Carlos and me? His sisters are going to feel so betrayed by me for hiding our relationship."

"Do not worry about that now, my dear. When Carlos wakes up and his sisters see how in love the two of you are, all will be forgiven. My granddaughters are good, loving women and they only want to see their brother happy. This little secret so many of us have hidden will be a source of good-natured ribbing for the rest of your years together."

Rosa gave a small chuckle. "The night _that never happened_ became the night _that love happened_, and love is always a good thing. I would imagine after Carlos is back on his feet, Celia and probably Pilar will give him, how do you say, a 'what for'. But, that is only because they do not like to be kept in the dark. They pride themselves on their nosiness and knowing everything before their sisters do."

"Do you really think they will accept me as Carlos' fiancée? How do I explain how we met? When I put it into words, it sounds so tawdry, even to me. What if they think I'm just some bimbo who sleeps around?"

Rosa got quiet and I felt a moment of panic that she was judging me. Her next words allayed my fears. "I admire you for going after what you want. Men have always been able to satisfy their urges and the world thought nothing of it, but women were supposed to behave like ladies and ladies are not supposed to have urges. Well, let me tell you, as a lady I have the same urges as a man, I just never had the…" and she gave a wicked chuckle, "…_cojones_ to act on them. That is, until I met my sexy husband." And then she let out a throaty laugh and she didn't even blush. Rosa had definitely 'come into her own' since she met Dawson Books.

"But seriously, my dear, I have spent a considerable amount of time with you and you have impressed me not only with your artistic talent and business skills, but also with your personal integrity and loyalty to your friends. I am proud to call you my friend and I will be even prouder still when you become my granddaughter. And I know every member of my family will come to love you just as much as I do."

I was in an emotional state and Rosa's kind words brought tears to my eyes, but I was still concerned that me showing up at Carlos' bedside and probably sobbing my heart out might upset some of the family and I did not want to cause any more stress for them. When I told Rosa this, she was thoughtful for a while and then said, "What if you stay back at first? The family will assume you simply escorted me from Hawaii and will not question your presence. And then, when I find out more about Carlito's condition, I will ask you to sit by his bedside with me, to support me."

I thought about it and wondered if I could hold back and not immediately rush to Carlos' side. I was freaking out with worry and fear. I had so many questions about the coma Mateo said Carlos was in. I wondered how serious his injuries were and how he had gotten hurt. I didn't pray very often, but I'd been saying little prayers every few minutes since we'd left Hawaii. And now the thought of having to wait to be allowed to see him, let alone hold his hand and tell him how much I loved him had me reeling.

_Mateo's POV_

Finally, some good news! By early evening, Dr. Livingston reviewed with us the radiologist's report on Carlos' latest CT scan. The conclusion was the brain swelling had decreased to the point Dr. Livingston felt that Carlos could be taken off anesthesia and allowed to wake up naturally. He warned us that sometimes when a patient is coming out of an induced coma he could be confused and even belligerent at first and that Carlos may have to be sedated if he started thrashing around too much. Dr. Livingston didn't want to take any chances that Carlos' brain would start to swell again.

So, it was with trepidation that the family gathered in Carlos' room as the anesthesiologist removed the propofol drip. My mother had stayed with Lena in the maternity ward so the rest of the family could be with Carlos. Tía Teresa sat in the chair next to the bed and the rest of us lined the walls of the ICU room. We all held hands and Tío Ricardo led us in prayer, "Oremos…" [_Let us pray_.]

I think we all expected Carlos to immediately sit up in bed and greet us, but that didn't happen. After about thirty minutes of watching Carlos sleep, most of us adjourned to the waiting room leaving Teresa alone with her sleeping son. Eventually, Tío Ricardo took my cousins to the maternity ward, as much to be with Lena during her labor as to take a break from the nervous tension in the ICU.

About twenty minutes later, bells went off and I saw nurses rush to Carlos' room. I got to the doorway in time to see Carlos struggle against the three nurses who were trying to hold him on the bed. His face was contorted in anger and he was yelling, but his words were unrecognizable. My aunt stood frozen in the corner of the room with a look of horror on her face. I pulled her to me and we both watched as Carlos finally quieted down after one nurse injected a sedative into his IV drip. Before he fell asleep, I heard him utter, "Babe."

When the nurses left, my aunt pulled the chair back up to the bed and began stroking Carlos' forehead. After a while she began talking, her voice just a whisper, "He woke up slowly and when he opened his eyes and saw me I was so happy, thinking our Carlito had come back to us. Then, a look of rage filled his face. I called his name, but he struck out at me and if I hadn't dropped to the floor, he would have hit me. My own son didn't know who I was and nothing I said would quiet him down."

The pain in my aunt's voice told me she thought she'd failed him. I tried to reassure her by telling her, "I don't know that there is anything anyone can do for Carlos right now. The doctors said he might be confused and aggressive when he first woke up. He just needs time to let the drugs leave his system. Carlos would never knowingly hurt you, Tía Teresa."

She briefly glanced up at me. "I know that, mi sobrino, but I have never seen him like that. I know Carlos' job puts him in dangerous situations and he must always be ready to defend himself or… to attack. It must be second nature to him by now." Her hand trailed down Carlos' cheek and traced his strong jawline. "He was so… so fearsome. I was terrified. It is just so hard to reconcile that side of my son with the gentle man I know he truly is."

We were both silent for a few moments and then my aunt turned to me with a worried expression on her face. "Carlos kept calling out to someone and I distinctly heard him say 'Babe' before the sedative took effect. Could he have met someone else after Ms. Plum?"

Ricardo had told me that he had had to confide in Teresa about Carlos and Stephanie's relationship and gratefully, she had kept the deception to herself, but clearly, she didn't know everything.

I chuckled at her question. "Hardly. That's what Carlos calls Stephanie. She wouldn't tell him her name at first, so that was his nickname for her. Why do you think she calls her lingerie line _Babe!_?"

It was as if a light bulb went off in my aunt's head and her face broke out in a huge smile. "Stephanie named her line after Carlos' pet name for her? How romantic! I never knew, but then there is so much I don't know about my son's life," she sighed.

Celia, Pilar and Maria joined us shortly after that and convinced their mother to take a break and go downstairs to be with Lena as her labor progressed. Lena's husband, Marco, had arrived an hour earlier, but young Lena also needed her mother at this important time.

Worried that Carlos might become aggressive again and strike out at one of his sisters, I stayed with them. Several times Carlos started moving around, noticeably agitated but still asleep. During these restless periods, he'd thrash around and mumble a barely discernible 'Babe.' One by one, my cousins would try to soothe him, speaking quietly to him and caressing his brow, but nothing worked. Eventually, he settled down and dropped into a deep slumber, but I knew it bothered his sisters not to be able to calm him.

It was late evening and Carlos still had not awakened fully. The family refused to leave the hospital until they were sure Carlos would be all right and that Lena had a healthy baby. Between my mother and me, we convinced them to take a break for dinner though they insisted on only going as far as the hospital cafeteria. Doing something so ordinary as eating a meal together would help settle everyone's nerves. Tío Ricardo was showing signs of strain and I was worried about him.

I'd read that families of soldiers who were repeatedly deployed to a war zone often showed signs similar to post traumatic stress disorder. The strain of worrying and waiting to hear from a loved one who is in constant danger can take its toll on anyone. When Carlos first joined the Army, he could contact his family regularly, even when he was overseas. But after he became a Ranger, his missions were top-secret and he couldn't talk about where he was going or what his assignments were. And when he transferred to Delta Force, nearly all communication between Carlos and his family ceased. My cousin learned to control not only his speech and emotions, but his facial expressions too, which distanced him even farther from his family.

About two years ago, when Carlos was overseas on a top-secret mission, the family was celebrating several of the grandkids' birthdays, including my youngest daughter's birthday. It was a festive happy day until a man in a military uniform arrived at the Mañoso home. As soon as Tía Teresa saw the man in an Army dress uniform at the door, she screamed and then fainted, and several of my cousins started crying.

Responding to his family's distress and his own fear, my uncle became angry, even aggressive toward the soldier. I knew they were thinking the soldier was there to tell the family that Carlos had been killed. In reality, he was just an old Army friend of my cousin's who had simply stopped by in hopes of hearing some news of Carlos and to ask him to be his best man at his upcoming wedding. The family quickly recovered and welcomed the soldier with open arms, but their initial reaction showed me how stressful a soldier's career could be on his family.

Rushing to Carlos' side during this latest injury was bringing out heightened signs of stress from all family members, but especially from Tío Ricardo. I'd watched my uncle when he was under duress and knew that his initial reaction was anger and I was seeing that reaction now. With a deep sigh, I made a mental note to keep an eye on my uncle.

_Rosa's POV_

As I paid the cab driver his fare, I could see my hands were trembling. Even though it was the middle of the night, I draped my sweater over my hands so Stephanie would not see how troubled I was over Carlos.

My heart had been in my throat since Mateo had told Stephanie about Carlos being in the hospital. On the flight here, I tried to put on a brave face and lend all my love and support to Stephanie, but what I really wanted to do was curl up into a little ball and cry. I had not even had time to go to church and pray. I could not bear the thought of Carlos badly injured, let alone in a coma. _Oh, mi Carlito, what had happened? What were you doing here in Philadelphia? How did you get hurt?_

Stephanie and I had talked about Ricardo, Teresa and their children, because this was now her family too, even though Stephanie's role in it was still a secret to many. While Carlos had started the deception, Ricardo had compounded it with his lies and pride. It was time to put a stop to all the secrets and come together as a family. Carlos needed all of us now.

The one thing I had asked Stephanie to keep between us was my English. Despite my husband and my son's attempts to keep me sheltered and living in Old World ignorance, I had worked hard to learn the language of my new country. It was a personal achievement and it was mine alone. Besides, a woman needs to keep a secret or two underneath her skirts, or is that up her sleeve? It is hard for this old brain to keep the sayings of two languages straight sometimes.

The hospital was quiet this late at night, but Stephanie and I found our way to the Intensive Care Unit. We had agreed beforehand that I would go in to see Carlos first while Stephanie stayed in the waiting room. I knew how hard this would be for the dear girl not to rush to her novio's side, but neither of us wished to add additional stress to the family. And having all the family suddenly realizing Stephanie's true relationship to our Carlito, and the fact that several of us had been keeping it a secret, would do just that. Secrets like that needed to be revealed slowly.

My three older granddaughters and Mateo were pacing in the waiting room. Before I could even ask a single question, I found my arms filled with three sobbing women. As I comforted my granddaughters, I looked to Mateo for answers. And then I realized that all eyes in the room were suddenly focused over my shoulder.

A small quiet voice sounded behind me, "I'm so sorry to intrude…"

My granddaughters left my arms and ran to Stephanie, who embraced them all in a group hug. Mateo watched on, concern and worry in his eyes. He knew as well as I did what this was costing Stephanie emotionally. Mateo escorted me to a chair and then gently brushed off his cousins and led Stephanie to the chair next to mine.

"I'm glad you are here, Abuela Rosa," Mateo began in Spanish and then turned to Stephanie and said in English, "and I'm glad you are here, too, Stephanie. Thank you for traveling with Abuela Rosa on her trip here. The family appreciates your kindness." He looked at me again and continued in Spanish. "I know you must have many questions. We don't have all the answers yet, but I will fill you in on what we do know." Celia touched my arm and told me she would translate for Stephanie.

Mateo told me about Carlos' injuries, the need for the doctors to induce a medical coma, and Carlos' difficulties in coming out of that coma. The doctors had discontinued the anesthesia more than eight hours ago and Carlos was still unconscious. Mateo left unsaid the last thought on his mind, but his silence struck fear in my heart nonetheless. I could tell he was gravely worried about his cousin. I was holding Stephanie's hand as we listened to these horrible facts and I was not sure whose grip was tighter – hers or mine.

Mateo then added that his mother Carmen was with my youngest granddaughter Lena who was under such great stress that she had started labor contractions early. He said that Lena was now resting as best she could in the maternity ward. Her husband Marco was also sitting with the about-to-be mother. So much difficult information to digest!

"Let me take you to Carlos now, Abuela Rosa." He offered me his arm, which I gratefully took and, with one last glance back at Stephanie, we made our way down the hall. When I entered the room, Ricardo had his arm around Teresa's shoulders as they sat next to Carlos' bed. The grieving looks on their faces told me everything. They were rapidly losing hope.

I clutched Mateo's arm tightly upon seeing my beloved Carlito lying so pale and motionless with tubes and wires trailing from his body. How he would hate this! He would hate the weakness of his body, but even more so, he would hate all of us huddled around him with pity on our faces.

_AN: As always, when Rosa is present, all Mañosos revert to speaking Spanish in deference to their matriarch. Of course, someone must then translate if a non-Spanish speaking person, such as Stephanie, is also present._

I put on a forced smile and strode into the room. "My dears, I am here now. Mateo has told me all that has happened. Ricardo, take Teresa down to the cafeteria and get some food into her. I imagine she has not eaten much today. And you do not look so well either. Maybe a bowl of hot soup?" Teresa wore such a long face and it was streaked with dried tears. When I hugged her she began crying again. Mateo helped her from her chair and walked her toward the door, leaving me to face Ricardo alone.

"It was nice of you to cut your vacation short, Mama, and to look in on your grandson. I have been dealing with all of this," he announced dramatically swinging his arm around the room, "while you were frolicking in Hawaii with your _new_ _husband_."

Teresa immediately called out from behind us, "¡Cállate! I'll have no disagreeable words spoken in front of Carlos while he lies in that bed." [_Be quiet!_]

My son ducked his head at his wife's harsh admonition and then glared at me. Closing his arms across his chest, he asked, "I suppose you have heard that you missed your granddaughter's trauma, too? Lena has gone into premature labor with all the stress of this, but of course it is Carlos that you are concerned about."

"_Ricardo_…" Teresa warned.

My son and I had not seen each other much since our argument before Christmas and each time had been strained. Even now, my son could not put aside his anger. Teresa was right, this was not the time to get into it with each other and I was in no mood to deal with his petulance.

"Tend to your wife. She needs you and, surprisingly, she finds your attentions comforting." I told him, before turning to Teresa. "Go to Lena, my dear. She needs her mother at a time like this. I'll watch over our Carlito. And please, tell Lena I will see her soon."

Brushing my son aside, I moved to Carlos' bedside and stroked his face. He was warm to the touch, but so pale and still that I needed physical contact to reassure myself he was breathing. I sat in the chair vacated by my daughter-in-law and grasped Carlos' hand in mine.

"Mi Carlito, I am here. I came as soon as I heard. They tell me you were injured doing battle with the enemy and that the enemy is no more. I am so proud of you, my brave soldier." I was close to breaking down as I watched him remain so still, so unresponsive.

I could not let my voice tremble as my body was doing; Carlos needed me to be strong. Using my imposing matriarch's voice, I commanded, in Spanish of course, "Carlos, I know you are tired and would prefer to sleep, but your abuela is telling you that it is time to wake up. Wake up, querido! Right now!"

I continued stroking his brow and cheek with the back of my left hand while my right hand squeezed his hand. I stared at his face for any sign – a twitch, a moan – anything. But when he squeezed my hand back, I was in shock. I looked over at the three people standing by the door and said with wonder in my voice, "He squeezed my hand!"

And then he started to move, just a little. When I heard him moan, I wanted to throw myself across his chest and hug him, but contented myself with a light kiss to his forehead. In a much softer voice, I begged, "Mi Carlito, despierta, querido." [_My dear Carlos,_ _wake up, sweetheart_]

His eyes flickered and his head began to turn from side to side as if he were experiencing a nightmare. His legs thrashed under the covers and he jerked his hand out from my grasp. Mateo rushed to my side and I had the distinct impression it was for _my_ safety and not because of his happiness at seeing his cousin begin to wake up.

Carlos' moans began to take shape as words and I heard him mutter, in English, things such as, "_Watch out!_" and "_Bastard_" and then "_Babe._" He said "_Babe_" many times, each time becoming more agitated and thrashing more violently in his bed. I reached out to soothe his troubled brow, but Mateo placed his arm in front of me preventing me from touching Carlos. Teresa and Ricardo had gathered at the foot of the bed and we all clearly heard Carlos crying out for his Babe. To my surprise it was Teresa who spoke first.

"He's asking for Stephanie Plum, isn't he? If only she were here. Maybe Carlos wouldn't be so restless if she was by his side?"

There… it was out… and she was right. It was time.

"Stephanie _is_ here," I revealed. "She accompanied me from Hawaii, where she and Dawson were conducting very important contract negotiations with several foreign companies – _not_ on some frivolous vacation." And I glared at my son for emphasis. "She is in the waiting room with the girls."

Teresa dashed from the room and within seconds she was dragging Stephanie through the door, with Celia, Pilar and Maria chasing after them. My heart ached for Stephanie when I saw the shocked look on her face as she gaped at Carlos, with all the tubes and wires flinging around him as he tossed to and fro almost hurling himself off the bed. I stood and gave her my chair.

She flew to Carlos' side and the minute she laid her hands on his body, he began to quiet down. Placing her mouth against his ear, she whispered soothingly to him and while he continued to utter "_Babe_," the tone of his voice changed from one of desperation to one of contentment.

Tears filled my glad eyes and looking around at the others in the room, I noticed their eyes were brimming with tears too, even Ricardo. However, my granddaughters had looks of confusion and their eyes kept darting back and forth between Stephanie and Carlos and the rest of us.

It was my first time seeing the lovebirds together, other than that infamous night at _Rosa's_, and even with Carlos still not fully awake, I could tell he knew Stephanie was here. His head was turned towards her and his hand held hers. He was now quiet and his face was relaxed.

Pilar was the first to speak. "What's going on here? Why is Stephanie with Carlos?"

Celia chimed in, "Mama, why did you drag Stephanie in here? I'm missing something. Papa? Abuela? Why…? What…?"

It was Maria who noticed Carlos' calm demeanor. "Carlos is quiet. Look! None of us have been able to calm him when he begins to wake. But he calmed down as soon as Stephanie touched him. It's like magic!" she exclaimed, a touch of awe in her voice. We all looked to Stephanie, some with knowing smiles, others with puzzled expressions.

It was then that Carlos finally woke up. His eyes slowly opened and he blinked a few times at the brightness of the room. Excited gasps came from several of us. But our Carlito had no interest in us, not when his Babe was cuddled up next to him. The look of relief and of love that filled Stephanie's face as their eyes met told the tale for anyone who saw them together.

Carlos seemed to struggle a little at first and then his mouth spread into one of his beautiful smiles, and we all let out a collective sigh. We watched as Carlos slowly reached up with his hand and cupped Stephanie's face. A tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away, saying, "Babe," as he did it.

Now, the gasps were loud and revealing. I think my granddaughters were beginning to guess the secret. Ms. Plum, well-known _Babe!_ lingerie designer, was also their brother's love interest. When Stephanie leaned over and lightly kissed Carlos, their suspicions were confirmed. But, now was not the time to confront Carlos with this whole mess of lies and deception. I asserted my matriarch role and firmly ushered my protesting family from the room, leaving Carlos and Stephanie to get reacquainted in privacy.

**TBC **_(aren't you glad it doesn't end here?)_


	39. Chapter 39 Chapter 123

**CHAPTER 123**

_Carlos' POV_

I was climbing out of a deep dark well, climbing away from something painful and oppressive. I could feel grasping hands clutching at my legs and I kicked out, trying to dislodge their hold on me. I had to get away from the danger below me and protect Stephanie. That one driving thought consumed me. Images and sensations of imminent danger filled me, but they lessened the closer I got to the top. The light above me was bright and hurt my eyes, but I knew that way lay safety and I continued to climb.

The next thing I remembered was lying on my back and for the first time in a long time I felt safe. And thoughts of my Babe filled my mind pushing out all the images of danger and death and that bastard al-Rashad. I could almost hear Stephanie whispering in my ear, telling me how much she loved me. And, in a mischievous tone she added that she would show me just how much she loved me if I would only open my eyes. With such an incentive, who was I to deny her?

It took effort, but I finally opened my eyes and there she was, right next to me. It was as if everything was as it should be. I was home again, with my Babe. I had to really concentrate to make my muscles do what I wanted them to. I wanted to smile at her, but that simple act seemed to take forever. My head throbbed and the pain that racked my body was a huge distraction. But Stephanie's face hovered over mine and I wanted nothing more than to touch her. After considerable internal exertion, I was able to lift my hand and touch her soft cheek. She was crying and my first instinct was to hold her in my arms, but my muscles didn't seem to be working. I had to struggle to move even my fingers. With intense effort, I managed to sweep my thumb across her cheek capturing her tears. The smile on her face told me they were happy tears, though I didn't know what she was crying about.

I knew if I could kiss her, it would stop her tears. Try as I might, I didn't have the strength to lift my head. But Wonder Woman read my mind and she leaned over and gave me the lightest of kisses. The kiss was tantalizing and lessened the pain I was feeling. I wanted… I needed more. And so she continued to kiss me and I could feel the full softness of her lips and smell her sweet perfume. It was so wonderful and so arousing I didn't want it to stop. In between her kisses I could feel the ache in my head, like there were a million little men inside beating on my skull with sledgehammers. But no matter how much pain I was in, I would never tell my Babe to stop kissing me.

Eventually, Stephanie pulled her addictive lips away from mine and fixed me with those blue, blue eyes of hers. We were going to have a 'talk,' I could tell.

"You really had me worried there for awhile, Superman. How do you feel?"

Just hearing her voice made me feel better, but when I tried to answer her, no sound came out. For the first time, I realized I was lying in a bed with machines all around me. A hospital! The mission and al-Rashad. My team! My heart rate sped up and I struggled to sit up, but there was such a sharp pain in my chest I fell back on the bed. I felt around under the sheets and pillow for a weapon – something, anything to defend myself and protect my Babe.

Stephanie looked at me in alarm. "What's wrong? Are you in pain? All of a sudden, you look worried. Are you okay?"

A nurse rushed in and after a quick glance at me, said, "I see our Sleeping Beauty is finally awake." I tried to talk again, but was unsuccessful. The nurse checked my vitals and studied the machines in back of me and visibly relaxed. "How do you feel, Mr. Mañoso?"

I grasped my throat, which was not only parched, but also felt raw, like someone had shoved sandpaper down it.

The nurse, an older woman who clearly was used to dealing with patients, knew immediately what I needed and she fed me a spoonful of ice chips. As the ice melted, I felt my throat open. A second spoonful helped eased the soreness.

"Where's my team?" I croaked out.

The nurse was quick with her response, "From what I hear, the men you came in with are doing all right. You're in the Intensive Care Unit at Jefferson University Hospital. You were badly injured and the doctors put you in a medically induced coma to help you heal. You've just come out of it and are bound to be a bit confused, but you're stable and your vitals are good. Are you experiencing any pain or dizziness?"

_A coma?_ That explained a lot. "I'm okay," I told her. And I relaxed, hearing my men were okay, too.

The nurse gestured toward Stephanie. "Do you know this young lady standing next to you?"

I looked at Stephanie and couldn't help but smile. My voice was still rough and it was hard to speak above a whisper, but I managed to say, "I do. She's the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with." I tried to clear my throat, but choked instead. The nurse gave me another spoonful of ice. It helped and I continued, "This is Stephanie Plum, soon to be Stephanie Mañoso." I took my Babe's hand in mine and kissed her fingers, ignoring the pain that was building up in my body.

"Good. And congratulations. Your memory seems to be fine." The nurse handed Steph the cup of ice and told her, "He can have as much ice as he wants. If you need more, just come to the nurse's station."

Then she reached over me to adjust the lighted clip on my finger and rearrange the numerous wires and tubes attached to me. _Christ!_ I looked like a puppet connected to a million strings. The nurse stared intently at my face before saying, "I'm going to find Dr. Livingston and let him know you're awake. Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

"Would you raise the bed so I can sit up?" I asked hoarsely.

She helped me sit up and get settled. She also must have seen my grimaces or the tension in my body and she injected something in my IV. Probably a painkiller. I rolled my eyes and got an admonishing look back and an unasked for response.

"Doctor's orders," the nurse said. "If you're in pain, you won't rest and that is your only priority right now. Rest!" I hated taking drugs of any kind, but I had to admit I was already feeling more comfortable. I let out a deep sigh when the overwhelming pain that had been steadily increasing lessened substantially. Satisfied, she instructed, "If you start to feel odd or if you need anything, press this button." She placed the alarm control in my hands and then left Steph and me alone.

"Stephanie Mañoso, huh? I like the sound of that, Mr. Romantic," Steph said. "Do you want some more ice?"

Nodding, I reached for the cup, but Steph shook her head. "That's my job! I'm going to take care of you." I knew better than to resist and I let Steph feed me a spoonful of ice chips. The cool liquid soothed the burning in my throat immediately. All the while, my mind was racing trying to remember what had happened to lay me up in a hospital, but the pounding in my head distracted any coherent thought.

I needed to know more about my team. I grabbed Steph's hand and croaked out, "Where's Tank? Is he here?" My voice was barely audible and my throat still burned. I tried to swallow, but I still had no saliva. Steph fed me another spoonful of ice. More croaking as I asked, "What about Bobby and Lester? Are they OK?"

A loud booming voice reverberated throughout the small room, "Cool your jets, Superman. We're fine. It's you who isn't doing so hot."

I tore my eyes away from Stephanie to see Tank filling the doorway. A second look told me everything. His skin was ashen, bandages bulged out from under his clothes and Bobby and Lester stood immediately behind him ready to support his massive bulk if he stumbled. Tank was in bad shape and ignoring it. But damn, it was good to see him standing there, mostly in one piece. And Bobby and Lester too, even if they were bruised and cut up a little.

Then my memory filled in all the missing pieces. We'd found al-Rashad, but he had a few surprises up his sleeve. What we'd hoped would be a simple capture turned into a rather explosive and deadly fight. But it was over. Al-Rashad was dead. And the threat from all those associated with the Chameleon and al-Rashad's terrorist cell had been… eliminated. The mission was over. And I was a free man, for a while.

I cleared my throat again, ignoring the pain and said, "Me? I'm flying high, thanks to whatever newfangled drug they've pumped into me. Bottom line is I'm feeling no pain, which is more than you can say. You look like death warmed over." I pointed to the other chair in the room. "Sit. That's an order, Sergeant James."

To my surprise, Tank limped over to the chair and sat down. He grumbled, "This is my hospital look. I hate hospitals, but these guys…" he tossed his head toward Bobby and Lester, "are insisting I stay a few more days. Fat chance of that. But I had to come up and see how you were doing with my own eyes." He looked across me to Stephanie and nodded to her, then cut his eyes back to me. "It's a good thing you finally decided to wake up. You don't keep a woman like Stephanie waiting. She's a keeper, Superman. But I'm warning you, you make her cry again and I'll have to pound you into a pulp."

I snorted. "I'd like to see you try, but don't worry, I don't plan on making my Babe cry, except for those happy tears women seem to shed all too frequently." I gazed at my Wonder Woman, still in awe that she loved me… that she was here, by my side.

"I know you've met two of my buddies, Steph," I said, motioning to Tank and Lester, "but I don't think you've met Bobby." I got a closer look at the man I'd lived and worked beside for the past six months and I could see he had numerous cuts and bruises on him, but he was steady on his feet. He and Lester seemed to have come through our little skirmish without too much damage, Thank God.

Bobby extended his hand to Stephanie, who stood up and gave him a big hug, much to my buddy's surprise. "It's nice to finally meet you, Bobby," she said.

And then she ran over to Lester and hugged him, too. She touched the side of his shaved head and I heard her say, "You actually look better without hair or at least without that awful fake mullet. And call Tina. She's worried about you."

He told her, "I just talked to my gorgeous girl and she's on her way. I'm counting the seconds until she's in my arms."

Steph then sidled over to Tank and gently placed her arms around his shoulders. She gave him a light squeeze and a peck on his cheek before she returned to my side. Tank now had some color back in his face.

She smiled as she looked at all of us, but focused her gaze solely on me as she spoke, "It's good to see all of you together in one room… and in one piece. Do you guys need to talk? I mean, about… work stuff?" She rose as if to go, but I pulled her back down on the bed and clamped my arm around her hips.

"You aren't going anywhere, Babe," I stated and then glanced over at my three buddies. "Unless you have something I need to know right now, I'd appreciate a little alone time with my woman. She and I have been apart far too long and I've seen enough of _your_ ugly asses to last me a lifetime."

"Damn! I can tell when I'm not wanted," Lester griped good-naturedly. "Besides, we need to talk the big guy out of wanting to be discharged." At my look of surprise, Lester clarified, "Discharged from the hospital, not the Army, Superman. Although, now that this mission is over, maybe we can look into that business thing you've been talking about? I'm going to need a good job so I can support my bride in the style I want her to become accustomed to." He winked at Stephanie.

My friends were entirely too comfortable around my woman. And I was envious that they'd been able to spend time with her while I was still over in Iraq. But I knew Steph was a one-man woman and that my friends had my back. Lester had reminded me of my plans to open up a security company when I got out of the Army and I was looking forward to building that business up with the help of my friends. But right now, I had other things on my mind and quipped, "As soon as I get back on my feet, that's the plan. Now get outta here, all of you." After our traditional fist bump, the guys left us alone and I turned my full attention to Stephanie, and her luscious lips.

But Stephanie had other ideas. "Before your family comes in, there's something we need to talk about."

_So, my family was here!_ I loved my family, but right now I was much more interested in being with my Babe. We'd been apart way too long. I turned on the charm and coaxed Steph down next to me and, in spite of the pain I was feeling, we spent the next several minutes in heavenly bliss. Then a giant of a nurse wearing scrubs with cartoon cats all over them came in and Stephanie slid off the bed and onto the chair, a little disheveled but with a smile on her face.

The middle-aged nurse looked at us disapprovingly and muttered, "I swear, men can shake off the worst injuries if there's a chance of a little nookie." She studied the readouts on the machines I was hooked up to and informed me, "Other than a slightly elevated heart rate, you seem to be doing pretty good, all things considered. How's your pain level?"

"No complaints," I said. The pain had quieted to a dull roar and I could live with that.

She narrowed her eyes at me, but I just stared back. Shaking her head, she told me, "Dr. Livingston is still in surgery. When he arrives, he'll answer all your questions."

The nurse turned to go, then swung back around and scowled at Stephanie. "By the way, making him a _little_ happy is alright, but if you make him _too_ happy, the bells and whistles go off in the nurse's station and within seconds this room will be filled with all kinds of people, ya understand?" There was a hint of a smirk on her face as she left the room.

I tried to coax Stephanie back onto the bed, but she shook her head. "Do you realize you just came out of a coma? We didn't know if you were ever going to wake up and if you did, would you be yourself? We've all been pretty scared and worried about you."

"We?" I asked. _Please, don't tell me that "we" means Stephanie and my family. _

"Yes, we! Your Abuela Rosa, your mother and father, your sisters, and of course, Mateo," she added.

_Dios mio!_ She knows my family! Did she just meet them now, in the hospital, or had she met them beforehand? What had happened while I was gone? Did all my hard planning go up in smoke? Had Stephanie been hounded by my family the last six months?

"Babe, are you telling me that you met my family before now, before this hospital?"

"Yeah, that's what we need to talk about." Steph's expression quickly changed from one of concern to one of anger. "Your _family_…" She leaned over and lightly slapped my arm. _Uh-oh!_

"How _dare_ you lie to me! How _dare_ you introduce me to your father and brother, and your cousin, and tell me they are just _friends of the family_. I thought we were being honest with each other and then I find out _you lied to me_!"

_So she knew!_ She was mad and I couldn't blame her. I'd known that I'd have to face the music for my earlier deception, I had just been hoping it could wait a little longer.

Before I could explain my actions, Steph threw up her arms and exclaimed, "I really want to light into you for deceiving me, and you deserve it, but I… I just can't get mad at you with… with you lying in that bed," she looked around at all the machines and her voice softened, "and me just…" her voice quavered a little, "…just glad you're alive." She rose and kissed me. And then she slapped my arm again, not so gently this time. Her blues eyes flashed with fire and her full lips pursed as she told me off, "_But that's it!_ You are _never_ to lie to me _ever again_. Promise?" She was beautiful when she was angry. Hell, she was just plain beautiful no matter what.

I realized I was getting off easy so I readily capitulated. "I promise. No more lies. But what happened? How did it all unravel…?"

A familiar male voice sounded from the doorway. "I warned you, Carlos. I told you it wouldn't work. You have one smart woman there," Mateo said, smiling at Stephanie, "and you are one lucky man."

I grinned at my cousin and replied, "Don't I know it. C'mon over here, cuz." Mat joined us and gave me an abbreviated man hug, trying to avoid bumping any of my injuries. I was glad to see him.

"How're you doing? You gave us all quite a scare," he said, bringing a chair over to the bed and sitting back.

"Sorry about that, Mat. I appreciate you handling things. And thanks for watching over Stephanie while I was gone. I can't tell you how much that means to me. She said you delivered all my gifts and letters without fail."

"De nada. Anything for family. Speaking of which, your parents are telling your sisters about you and Stephanie, and your engagement, right now."

"_Mama knows?_" I asked; my mind was racing with the implications. I glanced at Stephanie and she looked worried. "Don't fret, Babe. They'll all love you." She gave me a weak smile.

Mateo chuckled, "Tía Teresa isn't the only one who knows. Wait until you hear about your grandmother-"

And, as if on cue, my grandmother, followed by my parents and three of my sisters, burst into my hospital room. They were all smiling, but the women looked like they'd been crying. Dios! I must have been in really bad shape. I needed to reassure them all that I was fine. Where was that doctor? I needed to get out of this bed.

The older nurse who'd come in when I first woke up stuck her head in the room and sternly addressed the family. "I know all of you are excited that Mr. Mañoso is awake, but I must caution you not to overtire the patient. He still needs to stay quiet and he will require a lot of rest and sleep to recover. So, quickly welcome him back among the living and, please, keep the rest of your visits short and limit them to one person at a time. You've got five minutes and then I'll have to ask you to leave." She waited until my family acknowledged her instructions and informed us, "The doctor will be here shortly," and then she left.

Before I could say or ask anything, everyone was hugging everyone else, with Stephanie receiving most of the attention. My sisters swarmed around my Babe, hugging her and firing questions at her, which she handled remarkably well. I was busy analyzing the family dynamics to see where everyone stood, but there was so much commotion and chatter, my head was swimming as well as pounding. There was also a lot of unnecessary fussing over me. Between my mother and grandmother, I felt I would smother under all their hugs, their adjusting the bed linens and their stroking my forehead.

Then Celia fixed me with that big sister look only she could give and began chastising me in English. "How could you get yourself _engaged_ and not tell the family? Excuse me, not tell _some_ of the family? Seems that _some_ people knew while _others_," Celia tapped her chest, "were left in the dark. I'm really hurt you thought I couldn't be trusted."

_Damn!_ Just like that, it was out there. The entire family knew! The best laid plans…

I expected Celia to be upset when she found out I had chosen not to tell my family about Stephanie and me, but I was surprised when Mama came to my rescue.

"Celia, we just talked about this in the waiting room and you agreed not to make a scene."

Celia rolled her eyes and Pilar opened her mouth, only to be shushed by our mother, "No more scolding. Let's put aside the past and focus on the future. We have our Carlito home again and now we can properly welcome his novia into our family," Mama said and all eyes turned toward Stephanie.

This was so _not_ how I planned to tell my family that Stephanie and I were engaged. And Stephanie, how was she handling all of this?

I watched Mama come over to Steph and warmly embrace her and I saw those happy tears well up in the eyes of both my mother and my Babe. "Welcome to our crazy family. You already know what you are getting into and, I for one, am very happy you haven't run screaming from the craziness. You have proven yourself to be a wonderful friend to the family and your love for our Carlos has been unwavering, despite all the trials we have put you through."

"Whoa, wait a minute," I interrupted. "What trials? What craziness? What's been happening since I've been gone? How did you all find out about Stephanie?"

I looked at each of my family and saw a range of emotions. Papa and Mateo had guilty looks, my sisters looked indignant and Abuela Rosa… she looked smug and very pleased with herself. And we'd been speaking in English! I swear she could understand every word we just said. My incredible grandmother was one devious old lady, but I'd have to deal with her later.

Again, Mama spoke up. Papa was uncharacteristically quiet. "Carlos, it isn't important how we found out and, despite your fears, we haven't been harassing Stephanie. But we have all had the pleasure of getting to know her and we all love her. If you thought we wouldn't approve, you were wrong. She is a remarkable young woman and an excellent match for you. And now that you are home and will soon be back on your feet, there is a wedding to plan-"

"Hold on! Yes, there is a wedding to plan, but Stephanie and I will do the planning. And if I know my bride, she already has much of it decided already." I grabbed Stephanie's hand and brought it to my lips. When our eyes met, I could see the love she had for me. Dios, I hated being tied down with all these tubes and unable to sweep my Babe up in my arms for a proper kiss.

With more harshness than I intended, I barked, "Where's the doctor? I need to get out of this bed." It seemed I was not in control of anything right now and I hated that feeling.

At that moment, Tía Carmen stuck her head in the doorway, exclaiming, "Carlos, it's wonderful to see you awake and sitting up. Please forgive my interruption of the family reunion, but very soon, the family will be increased by one." My aunt looked directly at Mama, saying softly, "Lena's having a difficult time. She's asking for you, Teresa."

There was a flurry of excited shouts and all the women but Stephanie gave me one last hug or kiss and then raced from the room. It seemed my little sister was having her baby.

"Is Lena all right?" I asked my father.

Papa stared at me for a full minute before answering. "Your baby sister was so upset at seeing you in a coma that she started her labor pains early. She has been down in delivery for hours, often without her mother or sisters at her side, where they should be. They have had to divide their time between sitting with you and being with Lena for the birth of her first child. This is not how it should be."

Of course, the first words my father spoke to me were recriminatory. Why did I expect anything different? I retorted, "And you are blaming me for that? So sorry my coma was such an inconvenience for you. I won't-"

Both Mateo and Stephanie intervened in what would have been the latest argument between my father and me. Stephanie grabbed my father by his arm and literally dragged him from the room while Mat closed the door as they exited. I could see them through the side window and had a sense of satisfaction as I watched Stephanie verbally attack my bewildered father.

Mat moved over to one of the chairs and grinned as we both witnessed Stephanie standing up to a man twice as big and twice her age and still maintain the upper hand. I swelled with pride as she read my father the riot act, emphasizing each point she was making with a jab of her finger to his chest. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I knew Steph was defending me as she let her anger over his attempt to blame me for Lena's early labor fuel her tirade.

Shaking his head, Mateo said, "I sure wouldn't want to be your father right now." Watching the dressing down Steph was giving my father, we both let our grins show as Mateo continued, "Carlos, I liked Stephanie from the first minute I met her, but I will freely admit to you now, you couldn't have picked a finer woman. I have no doubts about her love for you or her loyalty. She has demonstrated considerable strength and determination, both in her professional and her personal life." Mat paused for a moment as the little drama playing outside was kicked up a notch when my father tried to defend himself and Steph shouted him down.

"You should know that Steph saw through our deception early on and she challenged each of us as to who we really were. Alex and I got off pretty easy, but your father… not so much." We both grinned again as we watched Stephanie continue to light into my father. "Seems he still isn't getting off easy."

Mat continued, "After we all met Stephanie that pivotal night at _Rosa's_, your father wanted to get to know her better and Stephanie, bless her heart, gave him the perfect opportunity when she used _Rosa's_ to cater her first _Babe!_ launch party. Then, your father started giving her cooking lessons in her new townhouse."

"WHAT?" I bellowed. "That conniving, manipulative, self-serving-"

"Calm down or the nurses will drug you back into a coma," Mat joked, or at least I hoped it was a joke. "Don't worry, it all worked itself out when Stephanie found out who he really was, which didn't take her long. She discovered 'Papa' wasn't a family friend, but that he was actually your father, the man who'd belittled and browbeat you all your life. And then, when she realized he had continued to deceive her after gaining her trust, well, let me tell you, cousin, don't ever lie to her."

I started to shake my head, but that caused the pain level to skyrocket. I let my head rest against the back of the bed and admitted, "Steph's already jumped all over me for not telling her who you really were. Believe me, I have no intention of ever lying to her again. I thought I was protecting her, but I've learned she can take care of herself. She never ceases to amaze me."

Mat nodded. "I've served as her attorney and witnessed her growth as a buyer of lingerie for a two-bit discount store to becoming a force to be reckoned with in one of the most remarkable business revival stories ever. She took a tired old company, Books Designs, and in a mere six months turned it into a shining star. What she's accomplished with her new designing career is nothing short of a miracle. Her _Babe!_ lingerie line has taken the fashion world by storm. Dawson Books has now made her his partner and has changed the name of his company to Books/Plum Designs."

I'd never heard my cautious cousin wax so eloquently about anyone before. His praise of Stephanie as she worked to become her version of Wonder Woman filled me with joy. "She's done all that? I knew she had it in her. I just didn't expect her to go so far this fast. She's really something, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is. But she's also had a pretty tough time missing you. You sure knew what you were doing with all those little trinkets and gifts you selected for her. They kept her spirits up, but the one thing that did the most for her were all those letters you had me deliver. She lived for your letters. I don't know what you said in them, but they really did the trick."

I nodded, trying to ignore my monster headache. "Good. I knew being apart would be hard on her. That's why I didn't want my family hounding her. Mat, what happened with that? I know you said Steph found out about Papa, but…"

I could see Mateo didn't want to go there. When he spoke, he took great care with his words. "There were several… uh… unexpected events that happened and it just sort of snowballed. We tried very hard to keep your wish that Stephanie wouldn't find out who we were, but she's one intelligent woman. She figured it out and she confronted me, then your father and then Alex. We all agreed to hold the line there, but then Abuela Rosa got involved and then your mother found out. The only ones who didn't know until today were your sisters."

"Damn! Abuela Rosa figured it out, huh? The whole family has underestimated that clever old fox."

"You have no idea, cousin. Hold on to your… well, hold on to something because the next bit of news is a head spinner. Your grandmother, your sweet old Abuela Rosa became a _Babe!_ model! And get this, she convinced your mother to become one, too."

"WHAT? _Please_…please don't tell me my grandmother and mother posed for ads in their underwear?"

Mat laughed. "No, nothing like that. The _Babe! _marketing strategy has also shaken up the fashion industry. Books/Plum Designs targets their ads primarily to women, instead of to men. No ads in porn magazines showcasing half-nude women in sexy lingerie. Instead, they appeal to women's desire to feel good about themselves. The company's innovative ad campaigns, as much as Stephanie's fresh new designs, have been responsible for the huge success of the _Babe!_ line."

"The _Babe!_ line. It still tickles me that Steph named her designs after my pet name for her. So, my grandmother and mother are part of the _Babe!_ business?" I grimaced.

Mat grinned and shook his head, "They posed for a few ads, and let me tell you, it caused quite a commotion in the family. But hold on to your horses, there's more news. Your grandmother got married a few months back."

My chin dropped to my chest and I was speechless. "_Married?_ Abuela Rosa? She's married? To whom?"

"Dawson Books."

"Stephanie's boss?"

"Yup."

"That's freakin' nuts," I shook my head in disbelief. "When did all this happen?"

"They got married on Valentine's Day. Your mother served as Abuela Rosa's Matron of Honor and Stephanie was Dawson's Best Man." I laughed out loud at the thought.

Valentine's Day? I wonder… I remember I'd had Stephanie on my mind all day that day, but for some reason my grandmother had popped into my head. And now she was married… to Stephanie's boss, no less. What were the odds? I had to ask, "They're both in their… what… 70s? How's their marriage working out? What's this Dawson Books like?"

"I've never seen Abuela Rosa happier. Books is a decent man and he's head-over-heels in love with your grandmother. He's a few years younger than Rosa, which seems to tickle your grandmother to no end. She even jokes about being a 'cougar.' However, Rosa marrying Books has caused problems between her and your father. They've barely spoken since the night of their engagement party, which is another story entirely."

"I can see Papa not liking it one bit. He never has thought his mother was capable of doing very much without him," I chuckled, and then a thought came to me. "Does Books speak Spanish?"

"Fluently. Seems our adventurous Rosa answered an ad for _Babe!_ models and Dawson was there and walked her through the ropes. It was love at first sight for them."

Well, that didn't help me prove that my grandmother could speak English. "So, Abuela Rosa finding out about Stephanie was just chance?" I asked, not believing in such coincidences.

"Hardly. You told me that Abuela Rosa caught you and Stephanie in the parking lot at _Rosa's_ that last night. Well, she snooped around until she found Stephanie and then kept pursuing it. And in the meantime, she was secretly dating Dawson Books. It all came to a head one family night at _Rosa's_. You've missed a lot of family drama, Carlos. Lucky you!"

The door opened and Stephanie entered looking as beautiful as ever and a smile immediately cracked my face. I couldn't believe the mission was over and we could finally begin our lives together. Then I saw my father trailing behind her and my smile faded.

Stephanie pushed my old man in front of her and then poked him in the ribs. He took a step forward, but his eyes kept darting anywhere but at me. Mateo stood up and he inched toward the door. Before he fled the room, he tossed over his shoulder, "I'm going to look for Dr. Livingston and get an update on your situation, Carlos."

"Tell him I want to talk with him," I shouted after him. _Coward!_

Then it was just my father and me, and Stephanie. After a second poke from Steph, Papa finally looked me in the eyes. He cleared his throat and said, "I am happy that you are all right, mijo. If I said something earlier that did not seem like it, it is just because we have all been so worried about you. Your Mama has been crying her eyes out…" Papa let out an _oomph_ as Steph elbowed him. This was awful. The only way my father and I could have a civil conversation was when one of the women in our family forced my father to behave.

After what I'd just found out about my father's manipulative behavior while I'd been gone, I didn't want to be in the same room with him and have to feign civility, let alone warmth. "Papa, why don't you go down and be with Lena and the rest of the family." I wished I could see Lena and be there to support her. She must be so anxious. "And Papa, if you would, tell Lena I love her and can't wait to spoil the newest member of the family."

Papa nodded and backed away from a glaring Stephanie and then he nearly ran from the room. I could feel my entire body relax as he left.

Steph gave a deep sigh and shrugged. "I was hoping that would go better. I'm sorry, Carlos."

"Don't give it another thought. I don't plan to. My father will never change."

"But that's just it. He has changed, at least where Teresa is concerned. Your parents had an awful fight and your mother refused to go home for two weeks. She stayed with Carmen. Ricardo fell to pieces. I actually felt sorry for him." At that, I let out a snort and got a withering look from Steph for my scornful attitude. I also noticed she was on a first name basis with my family. _Christ, how did my plan go so wrong?_

She continued, "After a lot of counseling sessions with Father Brady, your father made amends to your mother and they have been acting like lovebirds ever since. He helps around the house and even changes the grandkids' diapers."

"I'll believe it when I see it," I snorted again and then added, "You really do know my entire family, don't you?"

She ducked her head as a grin spread across her face. "Well, I haven't met your nieces and nephews yet." Then she got serious. "I believe there's hope for you and your father. I really do."

"I love your optimism, Babe, but I'm not holding my breath. And I suggest that you don't get your hopes up too high either, Querida. My father and I have never gotten along." I didn't want to talk anymore about my obstinate father. I moved my body over a bit and patted the bed, "Come here, Wonder Woman. Doctor's orders say I need at least ten kisses every hour."

"Ha! You haven't even spoken to the doctor yet," she scoffed, but she slid in next to me and planted those tantalizing lips on mine. I let my free hand run through her hair and inhaled deeply. Dios, she smelled so good. To think we had a lifetime of this to look forward to.

"Well, I see you are recovering nicely," said a new voice. I looked over Steph's shoulder to see a middle-aged man in a white coat coming toward us. Dr. Livingston, I presumed. There was so much traffic in my room, it was beginning to feel like Grand Central Station instead of an ICU room. It was also easy to lose track of my surroundings with all the distractions in the room, notably my Babe. Steph stood up and tried to smooth her hair down while I looked forward to the doctor saying I could get out of here.

"I'm Dr. Livingston. I'm the one who's been treating you since you arrived nearly two days ago." _Two days? I've been unconscious for two days?_ We shook hands and he got right to the point. "How are you feeling, Mr. Mañoso? Any dizziness? Any nausea? Are you in pain?"

"No. I feel fine." I wasn't about to tell him that my head felt like it was filled with a herd of rampaging rhinos; I'd never get out of here. "I'm ready to be discharged so you can give this bed to someone who needs it."

"You wouldn't mind if I ran a few tests before you leap out of bed, would you? You did suffer some serious head trauma, in addition to being shot and stabbed." The doctor stared at me as if he could see through my bluff. "I'd like to get a new CT scan and run a few blood tests, but we can't do that until morning. However, now that you're stable we're going to move you to a different unit."

The doctor shifted his stance and his voice took on a more serious tone. "I'm recommending that you get a good night's sleep and we'll see what tomorrow brings. Mr. Mañoso, your body is still recovering from multiple shocks and it will require not only a lot of bed rest, but also a lot of sleep to heal itself. Your brain, especially, has been traumatized and severe concussions like the one you suffered require their own brand of rest. For the next few days I'd advise you not to do any work that entails mental effort. No reading, no strategizing, no mental stimulation like television or video games. Do not push this critical recovery period."

The doctor paused and heaved a sigh before continuing, "Also, your family has been under a lot of stress with very little sleep and it shows. Please encourage them to take advantage of the hotel across the street, if they refuse to return home. They can leave their number at the nurse's station and if anything changes, they can be back here within minutes."

Steph put her hands on her hips and said, "I'm not leaving my fiancé, doctor. I've been waiting the last six months for him to come home and now that he's here, I'm not leaving his side." The intense look on her face startled even me. I knew how tenacious my Babe could be and knew there was no way in hell he would be able to get Stephanie to leave.

Dr. Livingston stared at a defiant Stephanie a few moments and then his face took on a resigned look.

Nodding his head, he agreed. "I'll have a rollaway bed brought to his new room, and…" He fixed Steph with a grim look and cautioned, "I expect you to stay in the rollaway all night long. Your fiancé is lucky to be awake and talking right now, but he is not out of the woods yet. He could still suffer a setback. And his body needs to sleep in order to heal. Plus…" the doctor glanced at me and stifled a chuckle before turning back to Steph, "Mr. Mañoso was fitted with a catheter when we put him under. Even if he wanted to… uh… enjoy your company, he can't." He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "So… what are you going to be doing tonight?" clearly expecting Stephanie to follow his orders.

Steph glanced over at me and swallowed hard before she replied, "I'm going to curl up on my little rollaway bed and watch Carlos sleep. Okay?"

Dr. Livingston cut his eyes to me.

Now that he'd mentioned it, I could feel the catheter and knew when to retreat. "We'll maintain hospital decorum, Doctor."

He looked satisfied and we talked a little more about my prognosis and the tests I would have tomorrow. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open and my head still throbbed. The doctor took a quick look at my various wounds and prescribed a painkiller for me. I protested, saying the pain wasn't that bad, but he fought me on it, telling me that I needed my sleep more than I needed to be a badass. That got a chuckle from Steph.

The doctor hadn't been gone but a few minutes before an orderly came in to transfer me to my new room. As soon as I was settled, a nurse came in to administer a painkiller in my IV. I'm guessing there was also a sedative in it because it was lights out for me after that.

**TBC**


	40. Chapter 40 Chapter 124

_Author's Note: An early Christmas present to our loyal and wonderful readers. And don't forget to look under the tree this time tomorrow. _

**CHAPTER 124**

_Ricardo's POV_

The hospital hallways were becoming a familiar place to me by now. I was on my third day of pacing the halls and sitting on uncomfortable chairs in waiting rooms. The halls were quiet and empty now. It was still very early in the morning.

Last night, I had escorted Mama, Teresa and our daughters to their rooms in the hotel across the street from the hospital. Carmen and Mateo had checked in to rooms as well. My family had resisted leaving the hospital even for a minute. But since Carlos was awake and doing so well the doctors had moved him out of ICU and into a regular ward. And thankfully, Lena's contractions had slowed so my girls relented and agreed to get a few hours' sleep. I knew sleep and a hot shower would help all of us feel better.

I had left Teresa still sleeping in our hotel room, but I had arisen before the crack of dawn. I knew I would catch holy hell for not waking her up when she caught up to me later this morning. But I needed to make sure my baby girl had made it through the night and that she had not had her own baby yet. And I wanted to check on Carlos and Estefánia. They should both be very happy they were together again.

Lena was still sleeping and so was Marco. When I peeked in, Marco's head was nestled on Lena's hip, her huge belly taking up half the bed. I hoped to find Carlos still asleep, too. I wanted to finish the sketch of him I had started that first night, that awful first night when I thought we might lose him.

Estefánia was tiptoeing out of Carlos' room when I approached. She shut the door and pulled me a little ways down the hall so we could talk. Fortunately, this talk went a little better than the unpleasant one we'd had yesterday.

She said, "You're here quite early, Ricardo. Couldn't you sleep?"

"I slept well, my dear, but I wanted to check on Lena and on Carlos. How is he?"

"Carlos had a rough night. He tossed and turned for most of it, like he was having nightmares or maybe he was in pain, but he didn't wake up. I hope what little restful sleep he did get was enough. He's quiet now, so I thought it was a good time for me to slip out for a minute." Estefánia looked exhausted herself and my heart went out to her.

"I will go in and sit with him so you can take a break. The cafeteria should be open by now. They offer a nice selection of fruits and pastries and sandwiches, though the coffee is pretty bad. Please, go down there and get something to eat." I tried to slip her some money, but she refused.

"Where are Rosa and Teresa?" she asked.

"Everyone else is still asleep. They should be here before too long though. I just checked in on Lena and she was still sleeping. I am sure she would love to see you after you have some breakfast."

"I don't want to be away from Carlos too long."

"It will be fine, my dear. I will be on my best behavior if he wakes up. Now go, stretch your legs and get something to eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Yesterday, they had Boston Cream donuts," I said, knowing they were her favorite.

"Okay," she acquiesced. Then she stepped closer to me, her voice turning stern as she warned, "You _will_ be on your best behavior, won't you? Because if you say ONE thing out of line, I will have your ass in a sling… _Papa_. Carlos needs peace and quiet, not World War III. Promise me you will not do anything to antagonize him?" She fixed me with that blue gaze of hers, but it was the same look I had seen on Teresa's face when she scolded me.

"I promise," I nodded and shooed Estefánia down the hall. Even an old married man could enjoy the delightful image of a shapely woman as she walked away. ¡Una guapa aunque ardiente y colérica mujer! Carlos had chosen quite a spitfire for a bride. [_A beautiful albeit fiery and passionate woman!_]

Carlos' room was dark and quiet, with the slight sound of machines sending a hum through the air. There weren't as many machines as when he was in ICU, but he was still attached to a couple. I slipped in and lowered myself to the chair next to Carlos' bed. He was sleeping soundly. This sleep was somehow different from the coma he had been in earlier, but a little stab of fear shot through me remembering how close I had come to losing him.

Even though the light was dim, I opened up my sketchpad and turned to the unfinished sketch I had started. It was a simple pencil drawing of Carlos sleeping. His face was relaxed and soft, making him look much younger than his years. It took me back to his troubled teen years.

He had been so rebellious as a child, and by the time he was a teenager neither my father nor I had any patience with his smartass attitude or lack of respect for our authority. And there was that awful incident with the stabbing. When Papa kicked him out of the house and indeed, out of the family, I felt I had no choice but to agree to it. But I have always been grateful to Carmen for taking Carlos in and giving him the love and support he needed.

I lost those early years with him. And then, I lost so many more years with him because of my stubborn pride, my insistence that he obey and honor me by working at _Rosa's_. The last few months I have learned a lot about the sins of pride and how I have been so blind to my own prideful actions. This scare with Carlos, with almost losing him has shaken me to my core. I love my son and I hope I have the opportunity to make it up to him, to put the past behind us and start anew.

But it seems whenever we talk, we argue. One of us says the wrong thing, the other overreacts and a fight ensues. I hope we can find our way back to each other, maybe with Estefania's help.

I continued putting the finishing touches on my latest sketch of Carlos – yes, my latest – I had drawn quite a few pictures of my son from memory. My pad was filled with drawings of my wife, my children and my grandchildren. I had even drawn pictures of my mother from the early photographs of her we had in our family albums. It brought back fond memories of my childhood and how close my mother and I used to be. Now that she was married and living with her new husband, I realized how much I missed her.

After I had started sketching again, during those awful two weeks without my Teresa, I found I enjoyed it so much I continued. I had nearly filled this large sketchpad with images of the people I loved and I had even tried my hand at drawing some buildings, notably _Rosa's_ and our family home. The challenge of getting the three dimensional angles just right stumped me at first, but I found the creative process to be stimulating and soothing at the same time. I was still too embarrassed to let people see my artwork; it was something I did just for myself anyway. Drawing, especially the portraits I enjoyed so, touched some inner part of me that nothing else in my life had. For me, drawing was a good stress reliever and I was a much more pleasant person to be around when I sketched on a regular basis.

Carlos began to stir. He was waking up. I was ready to offer an olive branch. I tucked the sketchpad between the two machines that were attached to the wall in back of the bed and returned to a chair in the corner of the room.

_Carlos' POV_

As I woke up, I felt an exhilaration I hadn't felt in a long time. And there was only one reason for it, a beautiful, blue-eyed reason. I looked around the room for Stephanie, but felt an incredible let down when I only saw my father, sitting in a corner of the room. I was in no mood to put up with my father's pompous, arrogant attitude.

"Good morning, Carlos. It is wonderful to see you awake."

"Where's Stephanie?" I demanded.

"I sent her to the cafeteria," my father replied. "The poor girl has been glued to your side since she got here. She needed to get some food in her and she needs some sleep. You _do_ realize that she traveled all the way from conducting important business meetings in Hawaii and then stayed up all night watching over you?"

"You're a fine one to tell me about how to care for my woman," I snarled. I wasn't going to let him manipulate me and I certainly wasn't going to take any guff from him. I'd had it. I twisted the knife a little deeper. "For years, you left your wife alone to raise six children while you played chef at _Rosa's_."

My father bristled and then said in a familiar condescending tone, "I was doing my job, so I could provide a decent life for my family. You will soon learn of the overwhelming burdens of being responsible for your own family. Making enough money to properly provide for your loved ones is only the start. You must also build your reputation within the community and become a respected supporter of the Church. These are all obligations that will benefit your family. You will see."

"All I know is that you were rarely at home and when you were, we had to be quiet because you were busy creating new recipes and menus for the restaurant and couldn't be disturbed, even to spend time with your own children. So much for family."

Papa's voice began to rise, that strident tone I was so familiar with. "_That restaurant_ provided the money that paid for the new clothes, the best toys, and all the special classes, lessons and sports that you, and your brother and sisters demanded each year. Because of my hard work, you never wanted for anything."

"Except a father," I muttered.

In response, I got the same old tired refrain. "If you had joined Alejandro and me at _Rosa's_, you and I could have spent a lot of quality time together," he retorted.

"I don't define quality time as me bussing tables and washing other people's dishes while you continually harangued me. I was just a kid, but even then I knew that I didn't want to work in a restaurant and that I could _never_ work for you."

"No, you preferred hanging out with that wild unruly gang of yours. That is why you got into trouble," he yelled.

I roared back, "_You disowned me!_ You threw me out of the house when I was _fourteen_. That action alone let me know how you felt about me. And believe me, it wasn't very conducive to building a close father/son relationship."

The sneer on his face said it all, but he put it into words. "A son is supposed to _honor_ his father. You were disrespectful," he shouted, pointing his finger at me. "You were ungrateful. You disobeyed me at every turn. Your bad behavior was starting to affect the other children. I was not about to lose Alejandro, too. You left me no recourse." He crossed his arms over his chest and stared indignantly at me.

"_Alejandro!_ Of course you couldn't allow me to corrupt dear obedient _Alejandro_. He was the golden boy. He could do no wrong. How many times did you throw how perfect _Alejandr_o was in my face? He's my big brother, he was supposed to be my closest friend, he was supposed to have my back, but instead you drove a wedge between us so big we came to hate each other. That's _your_ doing, _Papa_. No one else's."

"Alejandro is a good son. He knows how to respect his father. He honors me."

"And I never did," I stated flatly.

Papa scoffed, "That is putting it mildly. You went out of your way to disrespect me. You turned your back on your family obligations; you turned your back on me. You threw our traditions in my face. And you expect me to ignore that? You hurt me, Carlos. Every time you refused my generous offer to make a place for you at _Rosa's_, you twisted the knife deeper into my heart."

Dios, this was getting old. "If I hurt you so bad, if I'm that disrespectful, then why do you still want me to work with you? I want to live my own life, not yours. Why can't you accept the fact that I'm not cut out to work in a restaurant? Get it through that thick Old World brain of yours that I have my own plans for my life, plans that don't include _Rosa's_."

Papa threw up his hands. "You cannot be a soldier forever. And you have no other marketable skills. I offer you a future so you will be able to support yourself and your beautiful Estefánia. What kind of a man are you if you mooch off your fiancée's success."

_How dare he?_ He didn't just go there? Did he really think so little of me? My anger had reached an explosive point. I needed to get up; I needed to move. I tried to shift my weight so I could swing my legs over the side of the bed, but stabbing pains shot through me and a wave of dizziness stopped me. Dios, how I hated being stuck in this damned bed! I wanted to shove my father against the wall and pound some sense into him, but all I could do was yell at him.

"_Go to hell!" _I shouted_._ "You know _nothing_ about me or my _marketable skills_. Hell, I have enough money to buy your precious _Rosa's_ three times over and still have enough to buy my fiancée a bigger house than yours. Stephanie will never want for anything."

I flung my arm out, pointing my finger at my father, "And leave Stephanie out of this!" _Dios, I was getting madder by the minute!_ I waved my hand up and out as if to banish him from my life. "How dare you maneuver yourself into her life, after I specifically asked you to stay away from her? You gained her trust… why? So you could turn her against me? Tell her what an awful son I was, like you did that last night at _Rosa's_? Didn't you get enough satisfaction trying to make me look bad in front of my woman the night before I left on my mission? No, you had to go after her and lay your head trips on her when I was gone and couldn't defend myself."

I snorted with derision. "If anyone has disrespected the other, it's you treating me with such disdain you'd even stoop to use my fiancée against me."

Instantly, my father's posture changed from one of indignation to one of defeat. He looked devastated. His voice dropped down low as he exclaimed, "Carlos… no! I did not mean to… I would never use Estefánia in that way. I only wanted to get to know her. I wanted to be there for her in your absence, to protect her _for you_. She is a wonderful girl. I will be happy to welcome her as my daughter-in-law."

"Don't give me that bullshit. She needs protection _from_ you, not _by_ you. You just wanted to get her under your thumb and control her like you try to control everyone. Everyone except me. I wouldn't knuckle under. I wouldn't bow to you. Since I'm such a disappointment, perhaps it's time I leave Jersey for good. Stephanie and I can work anywhere. We'll make great lives for ourselves somewhere else and you won't need to worry about either of us anymore." One of the machines behind me started to beep louder and faster.

"No, please, do not go, mijo. And please, do not take Estefania away. She is already part of our family. We have already missed so much of your life, Carlos, we don't want to miss any more."

His false act of contrition didn't fool me. "If I have anything to say about it, you will never get near her. I won't subject her to your manipulations, to your constant belittling of me. I'll do what I need to for both Stephanie and me." Damn! The machine's constant beeping made me want to tear off the wires attached to me.

At that point, one of the nurses stepped into the room and crossed her arms over her chest. The hard expression of displeasure on her face was enough to silence both me and my father. Papa just stared at me, his breath nearly coming in gasps. He started to say something, but then he glanced over my head and his eyes widened. Pivoting sharply, he stalked out of the room.

_Ricardo's POV_

I strode quickly down the hall trying to distance myself from Carlos, fear that our arguing would send my son into critical condition again. I do not think I will ever get the sight of the flashing lights or that awful beeping sound out of my head. My own heart was beating so fast and hard I thought my chest would be unable to contain it.

I could not believe I had let my pride provoke me again. I swore to myself and to Teresa, and even to Estefánia, that I would not say such hurtful words to my son ever again and I failed. Again!

_Damn! Damn it all to hell!_ Why… why do I continue to do this? I want to stop the madness, but my pride gets the better of me every time.

As I paced the halls, I found myself standing in front of the hospital chapel. I knew Teresa had stopped by here several times to pray for Carlos and for Lena and her baby. I had been too busy, but something needed to change and I knew I could not do this alone. I needed His help.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. Two women and a little boy sat near the front of the chapel; the women were talking quietly. I lowered myself to a pew near the back and let the smooth curved planes of the wooden bench relax me. Looking up at the chapel's lighted altar, I allowed the tension to drain from my body as I tried to let the argument with Carlos drain away too, so I could discover why I had let it get so far.

Suddenly, a loud, anguished sob escaped from one of the women. The second woman, who looked very similar to the first one, placed an arm around the distraught woman's shoulders to comfort her, but she shrugged out of the embrace and stood up. Anger and bitterness contorted the woman's face into a mask of despair.

"No, Tanna!" she yelled at the woman who was still seated. "You _don't_ know how I feel! But how could you, since you haven't been home in years. I'm not crying because I loved Mom so much. I'm crying because I didn't! I'm crying because our whole life was a complete lie and I'm sorry it's ended this way. She thought I loved her, but…" she sucked in a ragged breath, "but I hated her for the way she treated you and Dad. She was the reason you guys left us for good. It's her fault our family was ripped apart and it was her fault I never got to say good-bye to Dad. I've always hated her for that!"

"Please, Bonnie, just sit down and let's talk," pleaded the second woman. "You're hurting right now, but Mom wouldn't want you to be so upset. We did the right thing by turning off the machines and letting her go. She's at peace now – just like Dad."

"How can you be so naive?" cried the woman called Bonnie. Her body was shaking like a trembling leaf, but she wasn't scared or cold. She was angry. "Mom never was at peace while she lived and I seriously doubt she's at peace now that she's dead!"

The seated woman sighed and said, "I _have_ to believe she's at peace. That's the only way I'll be able to go on. I forgave her a long time ago and that's the best I can do."

"You forgave her?" Bonnie made a sound of utter disgust. "All your life, all Mom ever did was put you down for your life choices. She drove you away from us with her vitriol and she never failed to point out your shortcomings to anyone who asked about you. And as for Dad, she constantly berated him. Nothing he ever did was good enough. I couldn't blame him for leaving. Who'd want to stay with someone who only criticizes and puts you down?"

Pacing, she waved her arm at the other woman. "How could you forgive her? How can you say nice things about her after all she put you through? She was nothing but a bitter, angry woman. She forbade me to attend Dad's funeral. I never got the chance to tell him I loved him. And yet, you came back here when she asked you to come, even though she slipped into the coma before you arrived. Jeez, sis, you're a glutton for punishment!" She sank back down on the pew, shoulders slumped, head down.

Tanna shrugged and shook her head. "Life's too short to hold a grudge. Mom was wrong, but I refused to become like her. I left home because I couldn't be around her anymore and I knew Mom would never change. But I didn't stop loving her; I regret that I didn't get here in time to tell her that. I learned a long time ago that I had to forgive Mom, or else my resentment would eat me alive. Please don't become like her. Let it go. Let the bitterness go, Bonnie."

The little boy tugged on the edge of the jacket of the woman named Bonnie. "Mama, Nana loved you. She loved Aunt Tanna, too. She told me so. And she told me I had to love Aunt Tanna, too, 'cause she's fam'ly an' we gots to love our fam'ly no matter what." The little boy turned to gaze up at the other woman. "I love you, Aunt Tanna."

"Out of the mouths of babes…" Tanna said softly as she hugged the little boy.

After a few minutes of silence, the women and the little boy got up and walked toward the door of the chapel. As they passed my pew, the little boy hung back and stared up at me.

"You look sad, mistah. Didja lose someone, too?" he asked.

I slowly shook my head and answered as truthfully as I could, "Not yet, I hope."

"So… you still got time to tell 'em you love 'em?" The innocence shining out of those young eyes took me aback. "Do it… do it afore it's too late. My mama and my aunt are sad 'cause it's too late for them. Maybe… if you say it, you won't be so sad?"

His mother called to him and the boy ran to her, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which were becoming increasingly bleak.

_Tell 'em you love 'em_. As the lady said, _'Out of the mouths of babes.'_ It sounded so easy. Maybe it was just that simple.

Reflecting on what I had overheard, I realized just how close I was to losing my own son. Not because of death, not this time, but losing him from my life because my actions and my criticisms were driving him away. Carlos had threatened to leave and to take Estefánia with him. Not only would I lose them, but I would never get to see any children they might have. I couldn't bear that and Teresa would never speak to me again if I let that happen.

For the first time since I had received that awful call from Mateo, I let myself think about everything that had happened. When I arrived at this hospital, I felt only fear, but it had rapidly turned to anger and I realized that was a pattern in my life, a terrible pattern.

I thought I had conquered my anger many months ago after I had worked through my long-standing issues of uncontrolled pride. How many times must I learn the same lesson over and over? Am I that heedless, that arrogant? I wish I could say no, but after all I have been through with Teresa, with Alejandro and even with my mother, I know that I have been, and it all comes back to pride. _My damn pride!_

All those sessions with Father Brady and the heartfelt talks with Teresa had made me realize how my prideful words and actions had negatively impacted my family, especially Carlos.

I had been doing so much better the last few months, but I could see that my fear of losing Carlos had thrown me right back into old patterns. Father Brady had warned me that undue stress might bring old behaviors to the forefront and that I must be on guard against letting that happen. I could not believe how easy it had been to slip back into my old thoughts and feelings and to lash out at my injured son as he lay in a hospital bed.

What kind of father did that make me? If I was this disappointed in myself, I could not even imagine how disappointed my son was with me.

I bowed my head and prayed, "_Dear Lord, I am in desperate need of your help. I argued with my son again this morning. I said terrible things to him. I did not mean to, I did not want to, but still, it happened."_

"**Ricardo, **_**you didn't?**_"

**TBC**: _soon_


	41. Chapter 41 Chapter 125

**CHAPTER 125**

_Ricardo's POV_

"**Ricardo, **_**you didn't?**_"

I heard Estefánia's anguished cry reverberate throughout the chapel and I felt even worse, if that was possible. I could not look up; I could not face her.

She slid in next to me and sat back, hands in her lap. When she sighed, I closed my eyes, waiting for the tirade to come, waiting for her to take me to task. And I knew I deserved it!

But there was only another sigh. I looked over at Estefánia and she had tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight of this lovely young woman reduced to tears because of something I had done tore me up inside.

I took her hand in mine and begged, "Please, do not cry, mi niña querida. I cannot bear to see you like this."

She yanked her hand from mine as if I repulsed her and snapped, "_Then stop it!_ Stop arguing with Carlos." She put her hand to her forehead and let out a sob. I tried to put my arm around her shoulders to comfort her, but she shrugged me off and scooted a little away from me.

"Estefánia…" I started to explain, but she kept on.

"_No!_ No, Ricardo! Didn't _anything_ we talked about yesterday stick with you? I thought I was getting through to you, but now I feel like whatever I say just goes in one ear and out the other. I'm at a loss, a total loss. Getting angry with you doesn't work. Showing you how much you've hurt Carlos, which hurts me, doesn't work. Will anything?"

She dropped her head, her sad expression breaking my heart. I had sorely disappointed her… again. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I even disappointed myself. I tried to explain, "I value everything you say to me, Estefánia. And I did not mean to argue with Carlos. It just… happened."

The pained look in her eyes changed to one of exasperation, which she shared with me. "It always '_just happens_,' Ricardo. Whenever you're with Carlos, you pick a fight with him. You tell him that everything he does is wrong. You try to make him feel guilty for living his own life instead of the one you demand he live. As a father who supposedly loves his son, you sure have an odd way of showing it. And how could you fight with him when he's lying in a hospital bed. _We almost lost him!_"

I could not bear to see the tears brimming in her eyes. She had almost lost her novio; I had almost lost my son. And here we were, talking about me fighting with Carlos. I hung my head in shame. What could I say? She was right.

She sniffled and then said, "Have you learned _nothing_ from the past few months? You drove your wife away and you aggravated Alex to the point he was ready to quit _Rosa's_. You are _still_ alienated from your mother. And now, you are pushing your other son away. I thought there was hope for you, Ricardo, I truly did, but now I'm not so sure."

"Oh, Estefánia, do not give up on me. I do not want to be that man anymore. I can change. I _have_ changed. Teresa and I are closer than ever, and Alejandro and I have been able to work out our differences."

With an indignant expression, she cried, "Then why can't you do the same thing with Carlos? What is it that makes you need to belittle him, to prove him wrong at every turn?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't my intent to belittle him. I just… I just wanted my sons to follow in my footsteps, like I followed in my father's. I wanted Carlos to look up to me, to respect me, but… he _rejected_ me; he rejected everything I stood for. Can you imagine how that makes me feel?"

Estefánia sighed, "Why is it always all about _you_? Just once, can you look at it from _his_ perspective? Just because your son chooses a life different from the one you had hoped for, doesn't mean he is rejecting you. He can still be proud of you for what you have accomplished, even if he chooses a different path for himself. You're good at being a chef and at managing a restaurant. Carlos isn't, but he is good at other things. Is it so hard to accept that Carlos is his own man and that he knows what he wants to do with his life? Don't think of it as him rejecting you, think of it as him following his own path, a path that calls strongly to him. I know you're big on faith. Well, try having faith in your son."

Her words touched me deeply. "You have such a different way of seeing things, Estefánia. As a father, a Cuban father, my role with my other children has always been clear, but with Carlos it never was. I have never understood my younger son. We have never seen eye to eye on anything. Carlos has made it clear that he has no interest in the restaurant business. But he lives in such a different world than I do that I wonder if I still have a place in his life."

My next confession was difficult to admit, even to myself. I hoped Estefánia would understand. "I admit that I have ignored his feelings. I even resented him. I resented that he had the strength to tell me no, when I… when I couldn't say that to my own father." And there was the crux of the matter.

I rubbed my chin and then plunged on before I could chicken out. "I felt I had no choice in my future. I was afraid to even dream of what I really wanted for myself. As the only surviving son, I felt obligated to do as my father commanded, but… the price I paid was so high, too high. Maybe if my brother had survived, things would have been different. But my father placed all his hopes for the family business on me. My father's unrelenting insistence on complete obedience and his wrath when he did not get it tainted my love for him and twisted it into resentment and yes, even hatred."

A deep sigh escaped my lips. I know that is what I learned from _my_ father, and I repeated it with my own sons. And yet I have resented my father all my life for treating me that way. He never praised me. He never told me he was proud of me. He never even told me he loved me. My chest tightened with old memories of hurt, disappointment and disapproval, but the pain was still strong within me, and my father had been dead for many, many years. The realization that my son felt the same way about me was devastating.

Estefánia linked her arm through mine and laid her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry your father treated you so shamefully. No child should have to endure that. But tell me, Ricardo, did you respect _your_ father for him demanding that you do exactly as he commanded?"

"I obeyed his wishes."

"That's not what I asked. Did you respect him, as a man?"

I could not lie to her. "No, I did not."

"Yet you treated Carlos the same way that your father treated you. Did you truly expect a different outcome?"

Estefánia was right. I had followed in my father's footsteps in more ways than just taking over _Rosa's_. I treated my own sons as shamefully as my father treated me. I commanded, demanded, belittled and berated and still expected my sons to respect me and yes, to love me. What a fool I have been!

"I have been an arrogant, prideful fool, my dear. I refused to see how my selfish actions only served to drive my family away. And if I do not change, if I do not stop treating my son with such disrespect, he will leave. He threatened to leave and to take you with him. Please, Estefánia, do not let that happen."

She sat up and removed her arm from mine. "If Carlos decides to leave, I will go with him. My home is wherever he is. And I support him 100%." The look on her face was that of a very determined woman, or a Mama Bear.

"Ricardo, only you can stop this. The ball's in your court. You know how to prevent Carlos from leaving. The question is, can you… will you… make the same whole-hearted changes in your behaviors, in your words, for Carlos that you did for Teresa?"

Estefánia leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then she stood and walked out of the chapel. The door closed behind her and as I sat alone in God's house, the silence became deafening.

I threw my hands up in frustration and cried, "_God, have mercy on me!_ _I have been a terrible father. I have refused to see the spitefulness of my dreadful actions. I let my pride blind me and I told myself I was in the right, that I was owed obedience from my family. I was wrong, so terribly wrong."_

A sob escaped me as I faced my sins. How could I have been such a tyrant that I demanded complete obedience from my children, telling myself it was their duty to honor and respect me? How could I have thought that Carlos would be better off working at _Rosa's_ with Alejandro and me? My damn pride demanded that my son look up to me, that he showed me respect, but I refused to give him equal respect. Did I really think all that was my due as a father? Again, I wished I could answer, "No," but I could not.

I sank to my knees and, bowing my head, I clasped my hands together and prayed, _"Dear Lord, I do not want to be that kind of man anymore, projecting a cross and superior demeanor to those that I love. I do not want to be the kind of man my father was, berating and demeaning my children to get my way."_

"_I confess I have done the same thing to my son… to both my sons. I can see… I can feel my own son's anger toward me. He is so angry with me he threatens to leave and take his dear Estefánia with him. I could not live with myself if I drove my son away. Dios, how I hate myself. I hate what I have become." _

"_And while I take my anger out on Carlos, I am really angry at myself. For years, I have resented my own son for having the strength to follow his convictions when I could not. Please forgive me for being so weak, Father."_

Father Brady and I had discussed this very thing once and he had given me advice on how to handle it. It seemed so simple and yet I had been hesitant to try it, to believe it could really be that easy. Father Brady told me I needed to trust more.

And so, closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and held it, letting the anger, the fear, and the bitterness course through me. My heart ached from the years and years of disappointments, worry and resentment. I let myself feel, really feel all the negative emotions I had carried all my life. The sensations were so strong I had to grip the top of the pew in front of me. Images flashed before me. Images of my father yelling at me, criticizing me, rebuking me. And then there were images of me doing the same thing to my children. From deep within me came wave after wave of pain and I yelled out – not words, but sobbing moans. My head sank to my arms and I let the tears come.

After many minutes, I sat up, tears still flowing and a tight ache in my chest. This could not continue. I was tearing my family apart. Exhaling, I tried to clear my mind as Father Brady had instructed. When my heartbeat slowed to normal, I bowed my head and asked for God's Grace. I stayed as still as I could, praying for guidance, and for peace.

Brushing away the tears that continued to slip down my cheeks, I prayed, _"God, give me the strength to do what is right by my family. I love my family and I want them to be happy, but I cannot seem to overcome my own anger, my need to be right, my need to be superior. This has to stop, this cycle I have perpetuated as a father who demands unreasonable things from his children, and treats his sons as if they owed me their lives. It must stop. I must stop. But I cannot do this alone. I need Your help; I need your guidance and your strength. Please, Lord, I beg of you, take away my pride and in its place, grant me humility, and selflessness. Please help me to be a better man."_

Minutes went by, long minutes of silent prayer before the ache in my heart loosened. I grew warm, not as if I sat before a roaring fire, but warm from within. The heat spread throughout my limbs and then just as suddenly, it was gone. I sat back on the pew and looked up at the altar. Everything looked the same. I glanced around the chapel; I was still alone and the chapel looked the same. But everything had changed. I felt light. I felt good. I felt strong. I felt… loved. I wanted to be with my family. I wanted to share my love with them. And then I remembered why I had come in here in the first place – the fight with Carlos. And I knew what I had to do.

Carlos deserved a loving supportive father. If he had found a good life for himself different than the one I envisioned for him, I must let him live that life. And I must do it with gladness in my heart for him. Everything I had done up to this point had only served to push him away and to kill his love for me. No more!

I may have done as my father commanded me to do, but I had resented him for it. And I did not want Carlos to live his life resenting me. I knew if I wanted any chance of a positive relationship with my son, I had to change my Old World ways of thinking and make amends for my unforgiveable behavior. I just hoped I wasn't too late.

_Carlos' POV_

Damn! I felt chained to this bed and couldn't even storm after my father and get this insane feud out, once and for all. In frustration, I threw my arms up over my head, slamming them into the machinery behind me. Something fell down on top of my head and landed on my chest. I picked it up and saw that it was a notebook. Assuming it had something to do with the hospital, I tried to insert it back in the gap between the EEG and the heart rate monitor, but because of the odd angle it was difficult. Exasperated, I threw the notebook down on the bed and it flopped open.

And there, on the front page, was a pencil sketch of my mother. _What the f…?_

I examined the notebook and saw no name or identification on it. I looked more closely at the drawing of my mother and I had to admit it was an excellent likeness of her. She wore a big smile and she was dressed up to go out for the evening. My mother is an attractive woman and this sketch certainly did her justice. Whoever drew it had expertly captured her warm personality that also hinted at her wry wit. I turned the page and felt like someone had punched me in the gut. It was another sketch of my mother, but this one showed her in a seductive pose that I was uncomfortable seeing my mother in. She wore a plunging halter-top dress, her hair was loose and flowing and her arms were up with her hands behind her head. She had the classic _come hither_ look and looked sexy as hell. I couldn't turn the page fast enough.

The next sketch was of Celia and then there was one of Alex. They both were well done, portraying Celia's rare humorous side and Alex's quiet confidence. Flipping through the pages I saw sketches of all my sisters and most of their kids. The ones of the little children were particularly compelling with their innocence shining through. None of their names were on the sketches and I regretted that I hadn't been home enough to be able to identify many of the younger ones.

And then I came to a picture of Abuela Rosa when she was around twenty years old. There were several pictures of her throughout the years; the poses were similar to old photographs I'd seen of my grandmother. And there was one striking sketch of her as she is today: proud, classically beautiful with a regal air about her. This was clearly drawn by someone who loved and revered my grandmother. The next few pages contained random sketches of flowers, Newark street scenes, a park scene and one of small black dog. He looked familiar.

Surprisingly, the next sketch was of me. It was a casual pose and a good likeness of me. The next few pages also contained sketches of me, but of a time when I was much younger. There was even a sketch of me as a toddler wearing a Superman costume. Good thing my Army buddies would never see this. They'd never let me live it down.

Who'd done these? Who was the artist? Obviously it was someone in my family, maybe one of my sisters, but I didn't think any of them had professed an interest in or had any ability in drawing.

I flipped through the pages until I came to another picture of me, but this was of me sleeping. The artist had done a good job with the likeness, but there was something about my face that was unfamiliar to me. It looked like a recent sketch. I wondered if it had been done while I was here in the hospital.

I was still looking at the last sketch of myself trying to figure out who might be the artist when my father stalked back into my room. He took one look at the notebook in my hands and went ballistic.

"STOP!" he bellowed, striding over to my bed and ripping the pad out of my hands. I stared at him as if he were crazy.

Papa closed the notebook and tucked it possessively under his arm before looking at me. I thought he'd continue to rant and rave, but he actually looked embarrassed.

NO! Those drawings couldn't be his! _Not my father_. My father didn't have a creative bone in his body. And I couldn't imagine him dredging up the sensitivity within himself to create the depth of character and revealing insights that many of those sketches exhibited.

His voice was now low and halting. "I… I am sorry… I should not have yelled at you, mijo. It is just that… no one has ever seen these before. They are… personal."

"_They're yours_? You drew those sketches of the family?" I asked, incredulity echoing in my voice. It dawned on me that there were sketches of the entire family, except for my father. "When? How?" I found myself speechless.

My father slumped down in the nearest chair and stared at the floor.

When he said nothing, I spoke again, "Papa?"

He heaved a big sigh. "It was never my intention for anyone to see them. They are just doodles." He glanced briefly at me. "Please, Carlos, do not tell the family. They do not need to know this old man wastes his time in such nonsense." He hung his head again and wrung his hands, as if in supplication.

My father had never politely "asked" me for anything before and he certainly had never said "please" to me. Something was different about him, an earnestness I had never seen in him.

"Fine," I replied. I had no reason to tell anyone, but I was curious. "When did you start drawing?"

Another big sigh from my father. "Many things happened while you were gone, mijo. Just before last Christmas, your mother got very angry with me, so angry she left me for a while. She moved out and stayed with her sister. She would not even talk to me. It was the worst two weeks of my life." He shook his head.

"I was alone for the first time in my life and I did not like it, not at all. All I could think about was Teresa. At Estefánia's suggestion, I had tried romancing your mother and bought her a bouquet of purple irises, which are her favorite. I bought other gifts as well, but I… I made a mess of things. When we were apart, one night I drew a picture of an iris. I discovered that when I drew something she loved, it made me feel closer to her. And then, I just kept on sketching."

I was unused to having such a personal discussion with my father and I found it disconcerting, but I decided to follow it and see where it led. "You're telling me you just started drawing a few months ago?"

"Well, when I was a boy I used to sketch every spare moment I could. I loved seeing an image in my mind and being able to create it with my hands." He had a faint smile as he talked and then his expression went cold. "My Papa, however, thought it was _frivolous_, especially since he said I needed to focus all my time and energy on _Rosa's_. So, I put it aside." He looked back up at me, "But when your mother left me…" and he tapped the notepad, "I started again."

"Did you do that last sketch of me while I was in a coma?"

Again, my father looked embarrassed. Nodding, he admitted, "I thought I was going to lose you. I have never been so scared in all my life." His voice cracked, "I wanted one last remembrance of you. But more than anything, I wanted time, I prayed for the time to make up for all the years we lost… because I have been such an… ass."

I was dumbfounded. I didn't expect any of this and I certainly did not expect such a confession from my father. And he wasn't done yet.

"Ah, Carlos… I have learned so much these last few months. And much of it is due to your beautiful Estefánia. She has a unique way of seeing things and explaining it so that this poor old man can understand."

He pulled out his sketchpad and flipped through to the back pages. Standing, he handed me the open pad. I looked down at the page and got another shock. It was a sketch of Stephanie. She was all dolled up with her hair pulled back and she was holding a microphone. It made me curious about the story behind the sketch.

"When was this done?" I asked, turning the pad around so my father could see it.

A big smile stretched his face as he replied, "That was the night of Estefánia's very impressive party to announce her new _Babe!_ lingerie line. She asked me to cater it and I was thrilled to be a part of her success. She was radiant that night and so very happy. I sketched that a little from memory and a little from a picture of her in one of those fashion magazines."

Pride filled my heart and I wished I could've been there for her. Seems like my father _had_ been there for her. Flipping through the next several pages there were quite a few drawings of my fiancée and she was beautiful in each and every one of them. The sketches captured not only the light in her eyes and the humor in her smile, but also her loving spirit. These were more than just sketches of a woman; they showed the depth of her soul and the quality of her spirit. They had been drawn by someone who loved her. Glancing at each sketch of Stephanie again, I had the urge to tear them out of the notebook and keep them for my eyes only. They were that good.

I was getting a whole new perspective of my father. If he could draw such sensitive portraits of people, he must be able to feel and appreciate those same emotions. I turned back to the sketch of me sleeping. Studying it for a minute, I realized what it was that seemed unfamiliar to me the first time I looked at it. My face had been drawn with a vulnerability that I didn't like to think of me having.

I looked back over at my father and saw that same vulnerability in his face. Gone was the arrogant superior look he usually wore in my presence. Instead, there was a look of quiet entreaty. Something had happened to my father after he'd stormed out of here.

"Carlos," Papa spoke up, "I know you may not believe this, but I never meant to hurt you or drive you away. I thought I was helping you." He looked down at his feet and then shook his head. "That is a lie, but it is what I told myself. I thought making you follow in my footsteps was the right thing to do. It is what I did for my father and I felt you owed it to me to do the same thing. But… I was wrong. _And my father was wrong_. My father was wrong about a lot of things. And _so was I_."

He ran his hand through his hair and he finally met my gaze. "I am sorry, mijo. I am sorry I was such a terrible father to you. I should have known better, since I resented my own father for treating me that way. I had no right to demand you follow in my footsteps and you… you were right…" my father sighed deeply, "you were right in telling me to go to hell." I'd never seen my father show regret before, and certainly he'd never apologized. He almost looked… penitent.

He paused, clearly embarrassed by the unusual show of emotion and then cleared his throat and went on. "I let my pride get in the way of how… how I truly feel about you. I was a fool, pure and simple." He paced the length of the room and back again. I wanted to get up and pace, too. Hearing my father voice his emotions like this was definitely uncomfortable and I had way too much pent up energy to be lying helpless in bed.

My father stopped at the end of my bed. "Your mother and Father Brady have shown me that the sin of pride has been my downfall for far too many years. I have spent the past four months making amends first to Teresa and then to your sisters and Alejandro. Now, I would like to make it up to you, if you will let me. I want to atone for all my terrible words and actions toward you. I know I cannot bring back all those years we lost, but I can be a better father to you now. And I know I do not say it often enough… well, I do not ever say it, but… _I love you, Carlos_."

I felt my eyes widen and managed to keep the rest of my face blank, but mentally my jaw dropped down to my chest. Before I could respond, my mother burst in and interrupted.

In her excitement, Mama blurted out, "Lena's had her baby. He's so beautiful! 6 lbs., 7 oz. and 20 inches long. He looks just like a Mañoso. Lena is doing fine… so is Marco. And Carlos, you'll be happy to hear that you have a new namesake. Lena and Marco have decided to name their first son Carlos Tomás. Carlos for you and Tomás for Marco's father, who passed away nine months ago." She grabbed my father's hand. "Come on, Ricardo, you just have to see your newest grandson. We'll be back soon, mijo."

As my parents left, Stephanie came through the door smiling broadly. She skipped across the floor and melted into my arms.

"Isn't it great news about Lena and the baby?" Steph asked as she snuggled against me. "What did you and your father talk about? You had an odd expression on your face when I came in." Talk about odd expressions, Steph had one, too. She was staring at me intently, as if waiting for something.

"My father did most of the talking. I just listened," I told her. I had a lot to digest after hearing my father's apology. I wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Steph started to say something else, but I hugged her and said, "And yes, it's great news about Lena. She was hoping it would be a boy." I leaned down and kissed my Wonder Woman before she could ask another question.

This was turning out to be quite a day. I had a new nephew named after me. My father had actually apologized for all the years of criticism, put downs and snubbing he'd put me through. I wasn't sure how I felt about that and I knew this wasn't the end of it. And my Babe was back in my arms again and I sure as hell knew how I felt about that.

**TBC**

_AN: We've added more pictures and Ricardo's sketches (Set Chapters 120-125) to our This Never Happened Part II **Flickr** page. The link is on our FanFiction profile page. _


	42. Chapter 42 Chapter 126

**CHAPTER 126**

_Carlos' POV_

As soon as he stuck his head in my room, I knew who he was. Not his name, but his purpose. The Suit, probably FBI or maybe Homeland Security, had come to debrief me. He looked standard-issue: short cropped hair, clean shaven, black suit, white button-down shirt, narrow black tie, black shoes and black socks. Make that white socks… this Suit had no taste. There was a slight bulge under his arm and he probably had a second weapon strapped to his ankle. No smile, unreadable eyes and a pale, sun-deprived complexion.

"Capt. Mañoso?" the pasty-faced Suit inquired. "I'm Special Agent Hoffner. I'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened at the Mattas' warehouse."

I motioned toward the open door. "You might want to shut the door. My family is here and they could come in at any moment." Agent Hoffner closed the door and took up a dominant position at the end of my bed. And the interrogation began.

Since my team and I had been part of a multi-agency takedown of a foreign terrorist cell on American soil, the debriefing from another agency was standard procedure. It wasn't my first interagency interrogation, but I hoped it would be my last. I was used to dealing with the military, but these government types were so far removed from the military way of doing things that I mentally flinched each time I was faced with having to deal with a Suit. These Feds had a critical job to do here at home and I was only too glad to let them do it as long as they let me do mine.

Finishing this final mission nearly a year earlier than planned left me with eighteen months still to serve. There was a good possibility I could be assigned to another overseas mission and I did not want to leave Stephanie, not even for a few months.

Colonel Striker was due here later this afternoon to meet with my team and me. I planned to ask him to allow me to serve the rest of my time in the military as a trainer for the Special Operations Group at Fort Bragg, not just for the last six months as originally planned. Stephanie and I had discussed it and she was willing to move with me to North Carolina. She and Dawson Books had decided she could do most of her work for Books/Plum Designs through teleconferencing and the occasional trip to Newark.

Two days ago, I'd been moved from the ICU to a regular ward and yesterday the nurses removed all tubes and needles from me except for the IV drip. It felt great to have all those machines and wires gone, especially that damn catheter. I couldn't believe how weak I was and how a simple gunshot wound to my leg was impacting my ability to walk. It was humiliating to have an orderly help get me from my bed to the head. I couldn't wait to get sprung from this place.

Relieved to know that I was on the mend, Mama and Papa and all four of my sisters had gone home yesterday. Papa and I hadn't talked alone since his unexpected confession. While I appreciated his apology, I didn't expect much to change. My father could run hot and cold on a whim.

My parents had driven Lena, Marco and their new baby back to Newark, but not before Lena had brought her baby to my room. She wanted not only to say goodbye to me, but also to introduce me to my namesake. Carlos Tomás was a beautiful healthy baby and my little sister was beaming with joy. I had to admit I enjoyed being an uncle and when Lena placed her new son in my arms, he immediately took up a special spot in my heart. Mama was already planning a big family party to welcome me home, as well as arranging for the christening of our newest family member.

Just before my family left the hospital, Dawson Books arrived. It was my first look at Stephanie's business partner, and my grandmother's new husband – _that reality still seemed strange to me_. Abuela Rosa was clearly happy to be reunited with her husband now that I was _out of the woods_, as she called it. In the short time I spent with them, it was apparent how much in love the two of them were.

As awkward as it was meeting my grandmother's husband with me stuck in a hospital bed I found I liked the new man in my Abuela Rosa's life. Books seemed to be a decent man, genuine and straightforward. After seeing how comfortable the three of them were together – Abuela Rosa, Dawson Books and Stephanie – I knew they had all spent a considerable amount of time in each other's company. I wondered why I had even gone to all that trouble to keep Stephanie away from my grandmother and the rest of my meddling family. The unthinkable had happened anyway and everyone seemed to have handled it pretty well.

Books and my grandmother stayed the night in Philadelphia, but left early this morning after a quick check on me. Dawson made a point of speaking to me alone, asking my grandmother and Steph if they would go down to the cafeteria to get coffee and pastries for the drive home. Dawson confided to me that he knew how important I was to 'his Rosa' and he proceeded to tell me how much he loved her and how he planned to take the best care possible of her. He opened himself up to any questions I might have of him, personally and professionally; he even offered his financial information. I got the feeling he really wanted to start off on the right foot with me, since things hadn't gone so well between he and my father. He more than succeeded.

Soon after my grandmother and Books left, I had visits from Alex, Mateo and a few of my Army buddies. My brother and I had one of the best conversations we'd ever shared, given our tumultuous past relationship.

After Alex told me about his "almost" resignation from _Rosa's_ and his argument with our father over the management of the restaurant, I told him about my own recent fight with _dear old dad_ and Papa's unexpected apology. My incredulity over Papa's change of heart elicited a deep laugh from my brother. Alex said he wasn't too surprised and then related some of the family events I'd missed, including a little more detail about the altercation between our parents and the subsequent transformation of our once arrogant father.

I listened to Alex joke about Papa's new "lifestyle," but I had a hard time imagining our father doing mundane chores around the house, changing kids' diapers or even romancing our mother.

Alex shook his head. "That's not all. Just last week, Papa approached me and asked if I wanted to take over the executive chef position again. He said he wanted to concentrate on building up the catering side of the business. I was flabbergasted because just a few months ago, he'd taken back all chef duties on alternate nights. Since we're closed on Mondays, I was only working three days a week and I hated it."

I replied, "Seems like Papa has been going through some kind of emotional upheaval, maybe even a midlife crisis. I hope this latest change is genuine. As for the catering business, I can see him being successful at it. Papa likes to schmooze the customers and aren't most of the people who use _Rosa's_ catering services a high class, ritzy clientele?"

"Yeah, they're a pretty snooty crowd at that. Right up Papa's alley. The upshot is that Papa has agreed to leave the overall management of the restaurant to me, but he still comes in for a few hours most evenings to greet guests. Let me tell you, Carlos, my life is infinitely less stressful now."

I had to chuckle, "Who would have ever thought that Ricardo Mañoso could mellow out?"

Alex laughed with me. Then he turned serious as he said, "I attribute a lot of the changes in our father to Stephanie."

Dios, how much did I miss when I was gone? "What do you mean?" I asked.

Alex scratched his chin before sharing with me, "Your fiancée has a very direct confrontation style, and when she's mad she has a mighty fierce look about her that brooks no argument. The funny thing is she is nice while she does it. There's something about her that you immediately trust. I've found her to be a genuinely warm person, but she lets you know that she insists on total honesty. Papa was really taken with Steph from the instant he met her and he listened to her as he's never listened to anyone before. I guess miracles really do happen."

Miracles? I'd been so worried about Stephanie being hounded by my family during my absence, it never occurred to me that she could have such a life-changing effect _on them_. The change in my father was all too apparent and the trickle down effect showed in Alex and my mother's happiness. And my grandmother! She was married to Steph's boss and had a career as a _Babe!_ ad model. Who could have foreseen that? Maybe my Wonder Woman has saved more than just me?

Alex didn't stay too long. Now that he was totally responsible for running the family business, he was eager to tackle each day of challenges. I saw a new passion in him and was happy for my big brother.

Knowing I'd be checking out of the hospital soon and returning to Jersey with Steph, I'd asked Bobby to pack up my things from the hotel room we'd been sharing since we arrived in D.C. He dropped my duffle by my room just after Alex left.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate you doing this for me," I said as Bobby set my duffel on a chair.

"I went through the room and think I found everything of yours. No guarantee on the neatness of the packing. However, there oughta be a law against making a man touch another man's goddamn boxers," he grumbled. "Your skivvies really suck. You should get your girl to design some classy stuff for guys."

That got a loud guffaw from me, which made me grab my aching ribs. "I'll make sure you get hazard pay for it, Sarge. But there's only one thing I have in my possession that means anything to me. As long as you packed it, I'm good."

"I made sure I got it. I wrapped it in a towel and placed it front and center in the duffel. I bet you can't wait to get home and enjoy some quality time with your girl?"

"Home can't come fast enough and there can't ever be too much time with Stephanie. I've been thinking of little else for six months."

"Don't I know it. I'm the one who's had to look at your lovesick face all this time. I like her, by the way. She's real. No pretense, no 'put on' airs, and it's clear she's head-over-heels in love with you. I didn't think I'd ever want to settle down, but if I had a woman like her, I might be tempted."

"I didn't think I was the marrying kind either, until Stephanie literally fell into my lap. She found a woman for Santos and maybe one for James. Want me to see if she has someone for you?"

"Naw, but I might be interested in dating a few of her lingerie models. Some of them are smokin' hot."

I didn't have an envious bone in my body thinking about Bobby's player status. Those days were gladly behind me now that I had Stephanie in my life. However, I was envious of Tank and Lester. Today's debriefing by the FBI Suits reminded me that my two buddies could be leaving the service soon, while Bobby and I still had a long ways to go before we got out.

"Did you hear about Larsen?" Bobby asked, his face grim.

I nodded. It was the one potential consequence of our work that all of us dreaded. Not death – we all accepted that we could die as a result of our work – but being so badly injured that you couldn't do your job anymore, that was what we feared.

Bobby went on, "The doctors won't know the extent of his paralysis until the swelling goes down. And if having a bullet rip through his torso and smash into his spinal cord wasn't bad enough, he contracted a viral infection." We both dropped our eyes and shook our heads; the next few moments were spent in somber reflection.

"Lars was one of the few Feds I liked." I rubbed my chest and winced. I still had the impact bruises from al-Rashad's bullets that my vest had fortunately stopped. Lars' fate could easily have been mine.

Bobby slammed his hand against the wall, uttering, "I _hate_ that al-Rashad managed to take one of us out of action. We should have taken him out as soon as he walked into that warehouse."

"Don't go there, Bobby. Lars was just following orders to bring al-Rashad in alive."

Bobby let out a disgusted exhalation. "That bastard would never let himself be captured, but at least now he can't do any more damage, thanks to you." There were no regrets on my part about putting a bullet through al-Rashad's head.

Bobby shook his head and looked over at me. "Silvio isn't doing too good either. One of the bullets shattered his shinbone. He'll be in rehab for months."

Again, I thought about the gunshot to my leg and how lucky I was that it hadn't hit a bone or an artery.

Bobby and I talked a little more about plans for the next few weeks and then we did our fist bump ritual and he turned to leave. I called out after him, "Take care of yourself, Brown, and sit on Tank if he won't follow doctor's orders. I'm going to need him at full strength to help me get the business up and running." Bobby gave me a thumbs up and walked out the door. He was driving Tank back to D.C. later today. It was time for all of us to enjoy a little R&R.

Before Mateo left Philadelphia to join his cruise-weary wife and kids in Newark, he stopped by my room for one last check. I remembered to ask him to return the remaining bracelet charms I'd picked out for Stephanie. After we all got settled back home, I wanted to be able to give the last few charms to Steph myself. Mateo and I had always been close, but after all he'd done for me these last six months I was struck again at how good it felt to have family I could count on. I really owed him a ton for all he'd done for me and for Stephanie. I had hoped the cruise I'd given him and his family would be part of it, but then he'd had to cut that trip short because of me. I made a mental note to find some way to show my appreciation for all his efforts in caring for Stephanie, both personally and professionally. Maybe set up a college fund for his children?

My meeting with Diego and Javier was just as eye-opening. My old Army buddies related their run-in with Steph's ex Dickie Orr and assured me that the coward wouldn't be bothering my fiancée ever again. Diego also told me about an acquaintance of Steph's, a Joseph Morelli, that had started harassing her, as well as hassling my father. I couldn't believe how ugly it had become and felt my anger build knowing I hadn't been there to protect Stephanie from such a sick motherfucker. Diego confided that Morelli, an ex-Trenton cop, wouldn't be a problem any longer. He said they had 'convinced' Morelli to relocate to Montana and they had an Army friend keeping tabs on the rogue cop, who seemed to have settled down to a rural life in the Big Sky state.

When Diego mentioned the cop's name, I remembered Steph telling me about him and felt a surge of fury at the callous way he'd treated my Babe when she was a teenager. Another surge of anger coursed through me knowing he'd come back into her life and was still bothering her. I'd be on the lookout for any future trouble from the worthless jerk. I thanked my friends for looking after my woman in my absence, but they waved it off. I'd find some appropriate way to pay them back for all they'd done for me. I owed a lot of people, and I was grateful I had such good friends.

And now, I couldn't wait to get out of this hospital and spend some quality time with my Babe and get on with my life.

_Stephanie's POV_

The past two days had been long hectic ones filled not only with medical consultations, but also with visits from friends and family and professional associates. Both Dawson and Tina had finally arrived from Hawaii after separate delays in San Francisco. Lester had paced the hospital halls for hours impatiently waiting for his fiancée. It was a touching reunion witnessed by Tank, Bobby and me. Tina was ecstatic being with Lester sans his bad wig disguise and Lester sported an ear-to-ear grin and kept both his arms wrapped tightly around Tina. It didn't take long before they disappeared to the hotel across the street. I could see both Tank and Bobby were pleased for their friend, but they were also a little envious. I imagined for most of their adult life they had been players, but were getting to a point where they wanted more. They seemed ready to settle down.

Over the last few days, I'd been able to spend some time with these three big imposing men and I was impressed by each of them. They clearly loved being soldiers; they loved the thrill of the hunt and the danger. But I also detected a desire for a new challenge and a return to a more normal life. That bode well for Carlos and me, if his friends also wanted to leave the Army and start a new life as civilians.

The guys also talked a little about Carlos, the commander. Superman! I soaked it all up, trying to learn as much as I could about the amazing man I'd chosen to spend the rest of my life with. He was well respected by his men and it was obvious how loyal these three men were. I knew they couldn't tell me about any of their missions, but they did manage to relate several stories about their off-hour shenanigans. I found out Carlos wasn't an invincible badass 24/7. I now had a delightful stash of embarrassing moments and hilarious events I could use to tease my man when he got on my case for being a corny klutz.

I knew that Carlos still had nearly 18 months left to serve and I fervently hoped he would be successful in getting his commander to agree to let him serve the remainder of his time in North Carolina. I couldn't bear to be away from him for another mission. I'd come so close to going crazy the last six months; I knew I'd never make it through another separation.

Earlier this morning, four men in really bad black suits and equally bad haircuts had shown up at the hospital. The stiff postures and blank looks on the men creeped me out. They reminded me of robots. Each of the black suits took one of Carlos' team and disappeared behind closed doors in unused rooms at the hospital. When I returned to Carlos' room, his door was also closed and I could see through the window that one of the black-suited men was in there with him. I didn't know who they were, but I didn't like the looks of them.

Then another man, older than the others, showed up outside Carlos' hospital room. At first, I only saw him from the back and thought he was a bus driver or maybe an airline pilot, since he was wearing a well-fitted navy blue jacket, dark blue pants and a 'snap to attention' hat. Then he turned around and I saw his chest was full of colorful ribbons and pins. He was obviously a military man and a distinguished silver-haired gentleman at that. While he had a serious look about him, he also had a more readable expression on his face than the other men. To my surprise he approached me as I peeked out the doorway of the waiting room.

"Ms. Plum? Stephanie Plum?" he asked, extending his hand out to me. I nodded and shook hands with him as he continued, "I'm Col. Striker. I'm Capt. Mañoso's commander. You're just what I imagined. I've been hearing about you for months, Ms. Plum."

"Please, call me Steph or Stephanie. Did Carlos tell you about me?" I asked, tickled that Carlos would feel comfortable enough about us to talk to his boss about me.

"Yes, but it was more Sgts. James and Santos. Santos, in particular, was especially grateful to you for introducing him to his fiancée. He's been talking about his girl constantly for the last few months. The Army loses more good men to pretty women like you than for any other reason. Can't say that I blame them. I was lucky my pretty woman was OK with me making the Army my career."

"So, you're married?"

"Yup. It'll be 32 years in June. Allie – that's my wife – is the best thing that ever happened to me. She's been my rock. She not only gave me three beautiful children, but she put up with me being gone for months at a time, leaving her to handle the home and the kids all by herself. Allie's been a real trooper, the epitome of a good Army wife. I can't imagine my life without her." His face softened noticeably as he talked about his wife and kids. I liked this boss of Carlos'.

I smiled at him and then shook my head, "I don't know if I'm cut out to be an Army wife. I missed Carlos something fierce these last six months and I don't want to be away from him ever again."

"We all miss our loved ones. It's a hazard of our profession. But you're right, it's not for everyone. I will tell you that Capt. Mañoso is one of the finest men I've ever worked with. I'll be sorry to lose him. He has incredible instincts and that, combined with his considerable skills and expertise, make him invaluable to the Army. He is the main reason this latest mission was completed with no loss of American lives. You have every reason to be extremely proud of your fiancé."

My heart swelled with pride at hearing these words, especially coming from Carlos' superior. Now, I just wanted to get my man home and healed. I planned to take it one day at a time.

"May I ask you a question, Col. Striker?"

"You can ask," he replied noncommittally.

"Who is that man in there with Carlos?"

Col. Striker looked down at the floor before answering. "You know that the work your fiancé does is classified and that he can't talk about it?"

I nodded.

"Well, I can't talk about it either. But I can tell you that the man talking with Capt. Mañoso is an FBI agent. It's standard procedure. Nothing to worry about. You'll be able to get your man home on schedule. But I'd like to have a few minutes with Capt. Mañoso before you do that, if you don't mind?"

"I think I can stand to be away from my fiancé for a few minutes, but not much more," I joked. "I don't intend to let Carlos out of my sight for the next few weeks. We deserve some uninterrupted time together."

"You do at that and I'll make sure he has that time off. It was very nice to finally meet you, Stephanie. Capt. Mañoso is a lucky man."

Col. Striker left the waiting room at the same time the FBI guy left Carlos' room. I loved these glimpses I was getting into my fiancé's military life. I knew it was such an important part of his world and one I could never belong to, but meeting men from his unit and now meeting his commander helped me feel closer to Carlos and better understand him.

Dr. Livingston was talking with another doctor at the nurse's station and I wanted to confirm with him that we could get Carlos discharged later today. I didn't think I could keep Superman in the hospital much longer. I waited until the doctor was through with his conversation before I approached him. "Dr. Livingston, do you have a moment?"

"Ms. Plum, of course. I just reviewed your fiancé's latest tests and they show that Mr. Mañoso is recuperating better than expected. The brain swelling we were worried about is gone and I expect him to fully recover from all his injuries."

"That's great news. So, he can be discharged today and we can take him home?"

Dr. Livingston tilted his head back and stared at me. "That's a bit premature. While he is definitely better, he has had a serious jolt to his system. I'd recommend he stay in the hospital at least another day or two."

I blew out a big puff of air. "That's going to be hard. Carlos is going crazy stuck here in a hospital bed. He is adamant that he's leaving here today."

"Like I said, I don't advise it. His body still requires a lot of rest to heal properly and I'm afraid if he were home he would be tempted to push himself too hard and too early."

I snorted. "He'd do that here, too. But at home he'd be in a better frame of mind. Here, he'd be chafing at the bit and snapping at everyone. What if I promise to sit on him and make him rest?"

Dr. Livingston nearly rolled his eyes at me. "I've seen the way he looks at you. If you sat on him, he would just take that as an invitation to… well, you know." He stared at me until I blushed. "Ms. Plum, I can't stress enough how serious his condition was. It took its toll on his body and even though he's young and in phenomenal shape, he still needs time to heal and recover. He has a nasty deep gash in his side that could split open if he tries to do anything strenuous, and that includes sex." Again, I blushed to high heaven.

"I… uh… I… don't know if I can stop him from wanting to do that… uh… particular activity. We've been apart for over six months and…"

He gave me a serious look. "Do you want him to recover?"

"Of course I do," I cried, indignant that he could even suggest otherwise.

"Well, then I suggest you find a way to keep him in bed _and quiet_ for the next week."

Muttering under my breath, "I can keep him in bed, but he wouldn't be very quiet."

With a stern expression, Dr. Livingston admonished, "Ms. Plum, I can't stop Mr. Mañoso from leaving this hospital, but I seriously caution you to heed my warning. He needs time to heal and you are the only one he will listen to. If you want a long and healthy future with this man, I suggest you take the upper hand now and find a way to force him to take care of himself. He's not the kind of man to let an injury stop him, but he needs to give his body time to recover from his ordeal. He requires rest. Please help him do that."

"I understand how serious his injuries are, Doctor, and I will do everything in my power to keep him quiet for the next week." This might be a good thing. We should start off our relationship with Carlos knowing who's the boss, I sniggered to myself.

"He's extremely weak right now and he needs help getting from his bed to the bathroom, and…" Dr. Livingston gave me another stern look, "that is all the movement he should be doing for the next few days. After that, he can build up his strength and endurance gradually. Is there someone who can stay with you to provide that kind of mobility assistance?"

Nodding, I replied, "My father is currently living with me. He can help out if I'm not strong enough. Should I get a wheelchair for Carlos?"

He shook his head. "A cane might be a good idea until his leg and side wounds have healed. I'll have an orderly drop one off before he is discharged."

"Thank you for all you have done for him, Dr. Livingston. I'm very grateful to you for your care and for your advice, as hard as it is to hear it." We shook hands and since Carlos' door was still closed, I returned to the empty waiting room and tried to leaf through one of the magazines. Maybe I'd get some inspiration for our next _Babe!_ ad campaign.

"Pumpkin?"

I looked up from the glitzy pages of Cosmo and there was my father, standing in the doorway of the waiting room. Thrilled he had taken the time to be here with me, I ran into his arms for a hug. And then I started crying. _Jeez Louise!_ Everything was all right now, so why was I bawling like a baby?

"What's happened, Steph? I thought Carlos was doin' so well?" my father asked.

Between sniffs and gulps of air, I managed to blurt out, "Everything's fine." Digging into my pocket, I pulled out a tissue and blew my nose. "Carlos stills needs to recover from his injuries, but he's doing much better. I'm just tired… and relieved he's okay. And surprised to see you here. When we talked last night, I told you I hoped to be able to bring Carlos home later tonight."

"I know, but you sounded so tired I thought I'd drive over and bring both of you home myself. I didn't want you to have to rent a car and drive at night. Knowin' you, you probably haven't had a wink of sleep since you got the word about your man's injuries."

"Thanks, Dad," I hugged my father again, too grateful for words. I hadn't stopped to think about how we'd get home and neither of us had a car here in Philadelphia. "I can't wait for you to meet Carlos. His Army commander is with him now, but we can go in as soon as he leaves. How's everything at home?"

"Same old, same old. Blackie's missin' you. He's been sleepin' in your bed since you've been gone. It will be interestin' to see what happens when he has to share your bed with another male."

This was obviously my day for blushing. Of course, Carlos and I would be sharing a bed, but I hadn't thought about it in terms of my father also living in the house. And Blackie! How would he take to Carlos?

Changing the subject, I started, "Dad, Carlos is going to need a little help getting around the first few days. He won't want to accept it, but his doctor has made it very clear to me that Carlos needs to be careful not overdo it or reopen any of his wounds by trying to do too much too soon. He's going to need some help getting to the bathroom and getting around the rest of the house. He can use the elevator to move from floor to floor, but he isn't supposed to walk much the first few days."

"You can count on me. I sympathize with your soldier about not wantin' to admit he needs help, but I think I can convince him to lean on me. Consider it bonding with my son-in-law to be."

Now to get Carlos to go along with the plan. I knew I had my work cut out for me.

**TBC**


	43. Chapter 43 Chapter 127

**CHAPTER 127**

_Carlos' POV_

"Carlos? We're home. _Carlos?_"

Stephanie's voice sounded like it was coming to me through a long tunnel. I must have fallen asleep on the drive back to Jersey. I jerked up and sucked in air as sharp stabs of pain shot through me. My chest and torso felt like I'd been slammed and then gored by an angry bull and my head was pounding, but I didn't care. I was just glad to finally be out of the hospital.

Steph got out of the car and handed me the cane. _Fuck!_ I hated having to use it. I started to get out of the back seat and was stopped by a grim looking Frank who was standing in the car doorway. He knew how I felt about needing assistance, but he also knew Steph was worried about me pushing myself too soon. Frank and I had had a chance to get to know one another before we left Philadelphia and I found him to be a perceptive, no-nonsense man who clearly loved his daughter. He also understood me.

By way of introduction, he'd marched into my hospital room like he owned it, like an old school drill sergeant. He didn't give me a chance to disagree with him; he just told me in no uncertain terms how things were going to go. I had to give it to him, he had balls and he had a commanding presence. And he knew how to push my buttons. I knew Stephanie had told her father that she had agreed to Dr. Livingston's orders of bed rest for me and she had asked for his assistance in getting me to follow them.

Of course, I had never agreed to such restrictions, but after trying to clean up and then dress myself so I could get discharged from the hospital, I realized I was going to have to take things a little slower than I'd like.

When it was time to leave the hospital, Frank showed up at my room with a wheelchair and a "don't mess with me" attitude.

Now when it was time to leave the car, Frank didn't ask me if I needed help, he just grabbed my arm and put it over his shoulders and we walked up the drive to Steph's townhouse – make that our townhouse. Steph was adamant this was _our_ home now. I hadn't had a home in years except for the Army. My parents' home was just that, my parents'. But now, thanks to Stephanie and her impulsive purchase, I had a place to call home.

It was nighttime, but there was a floodlight over the garage lighting up the front walkway. I took in my surroundings and was pleased to see how nice the townhouse looked and how well-maintained the front yard was.

The minute I crossed the threshold into the house, I was confronted by a fiercely barking black whirlwind. Stephanie had told me she'd rescued a sweet little puppy, but this was an obnoxious, yippy runt of a dog. I wasn't about to put up with this chaos every time I entered the house.

Steph was trying to corral the barking dog, but the bouncing fur ball was having none of it. I could see he kept himself between Steph and me. _He was protecting her – from me!_ At least he had his priorities straight. But he also had to know who was top dog.

"Frank, I need to take care of this and I need to do it now," I said, lifting my arm from Frank's shoulders and straightening up to my full height. It hurt like hell to stand on my injured leg, but if I didn't take charge from the very beginning, this little black Tasmanian Devil was going to be continually challenging me for dominance. There could only be one leader of the pack and I sure as hell wasn't going to roll over for this yippy mutt, even if he was Steph's "little darling."

I hadn't been around too many dogs, but when I lived with my Tía Carmen during high school, being the kind-hearted soul she was, she rescued more than wayward teenagers. She also fostered quite a few rescue dogs that required professional training sessions to socialize them properly. By watching the dog behaviorist work with the rescue dogs, I learned a lot about dog behavior, dog pack mentality and the need for the humans in the family to become the alpha "dog." I grinned to myself: Those lessons had also served me well in the Army.

I took a step forward so that I was fully in the house. The upset dog took that as a threat and the barking intensified. He bared his teeth and uttered a low growl. Steph reached down to pick him up, but I called out to her, "Let him be, Babe. I'll handle this." She stood back up and gave me a puzzled look.

"What do you call him?" I asked.

"His name is Blackie. I've never seen him act this way before. He just needs to get used to you," she said. I leaned the cane against the foyer wall so my hands were free and so the dog wouldn't perceive the cane as a weapon.

"What are you going to do to him?" Steph asked, concern raising her voice an octave.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to shoot him," I replied, amusement evident in my response, "but I'm not going to put up with this threatening behavior and constant barking, especially in my new home."

She narrowed her eyes. "He's just a little puppy," she said, trying to defend her pet's rude behavior. "You're not going to play the big bad wolf and frighten him, are you?"

Steph and I stared at each other for a moment. It was our first potential fight so a lot was at stake, but I knew I was right. Steph was biting her lower lip, a sure sign she was troubled, but she nodded and backed away, leaving Blackie growling and baring his teeth at me.

Steeling myself against the pain, I walked into the living room, trying not to limp, and Frank shut the door behind me. I purposely did not make eye contact; in fact I totally ignored the very small but determined canine holding firm in front of me. Blackie's barking reached an ear-splitting crescendo, but he made sure he kept himself between Stephanie and me. I wanted to smile, but that would defeat my purpose. I slowly walked over to one of the easy chairs and lowered my aching body to the soft cushions.

I looked around the room, admiring the tasteful furniture and decorations. I was touched to see several of my Christmas gifts to Stephanie prominently displayed. The mantle and end tables showcased several framed photographs of Steph and I, and a few pictures of just me. I recognized them from the very enjoyable Sunday we'd spent together at Peddler's Village more than six months ago. I vowed to myself to make sure, in the near future, that we had a lot more wonderful memories and pictures of our time together.

I glanced over my shoulder at Stephanie and then took a longer look at her. Even with her frown, she was beautiful. It was hard to believe we'd only been in each other's presence for one long weekend six months ago and for a couple of days this last week. I'd memorized every inch of her face, the way she stood and moved and the sound of her voice. It felt like we'd always been in each other's lives and yet everything about her was fresh and new to me. I was one lucky son of a gun!

Blackie had stopped barking, but he was circling me, growling and staring. I kept ignoring him, not looking at him.

"Steph, Frank, come on in and have a seat. Don't pay any attention to the dog. Don't look at him or pet him." They both sat down on the sofa, Steph looking uncomfortable, Frank looking amused.

Casually, I dropped my arm over the side of the chair and let my hand dangle close to the floor. Blackie got near enough to sniff the back of my hand, but then he ran back to his defensive guard position between Steph and me.

Wanting a more relaxed atmosphere to put Blackie at ease, I asked Steph, "You said you found him as a puppy? Tell me about it."

Hesitant at first, Stephanie launched into her puppy rescue story. Blackie was still suspicious of me and hovered close to his mistress, but he stopped growling as she talked quietly, and Frank and I listened. None of the dog's behavior indicated any fear of me – no lunging, snapping or biting – he was simply possessive and protecting his mistress.

I was surprised when Stephanie mentioned my father's role the day she'd found the dog. She said that Papa had told her about my childhood toy, Blackie. I'd forgotten about that stuffed animal. Steph got a big grin on her face and flew off the sofa and ran up the stairs. This got Blackie all excited and he started pacing and barking again. Minor setback in my dog training regimen.

Steph returned with a shoebox and Blackie dashed in front of her, barking loudly as she approached me. She leaned in and handed me the box, trying not to step on the dog who became more frantic the closer Steph got to me. He kept up a low growl until she sat back down on the sofa. Curious, I opened the lid of the box and got the surprise of my life. Nestled among the white tissue paper was an old frayed stuffed animal, the black fake fur worn down to the "skin" in places. It took me a minute, but I finally recognized it. This was the first Blackie, my childhood friend, my inseparable companion when I was little. And it looked a lot like the animated version pacing nervously in front of me right now.

"Where did you get this?" I shook my head, gazing in wonder at my fiancée.

"Your grandmother gave it to me," she said. "Sort of like transferring a piece of family history to the new generation."

I had no idea Abuela Rosa had kept the toy, but I knew she'd used it to wheedle herself into my fiancée's heart. Abuela Rosa was a sly old fox.

When I asked how the two of them had been able to communicate, given my grandmother insisted she couldn't speak English, Steph was noticeably uncomfortable. She mumbled something about Dawson translating some of the time. When I questioned her further, she was vague about the details and then changed the subject. I knew Steph was leaving a lot out of the story and I figured I knew what it was. I dropped the topic though, because I didn't want to force Stephanie to have to reveal a confidence I believed my grandmother had insisted she keep secret.

It was late and we were all tired, but I wanted to make a little more progress with Blackie before I usurped his place in his mistress' bed. I didn't share my woman and I wasn't about to start now.

I asked Steph to tell me more about her work. It was a safe topic to keep her voice on an even keel and hopefully that would calm the dog a bit. As she talked, she yawned a few times. She was more tired than I thought. I needed to speed things up.

Knowing it was going to hurt like hell, I put my hands on the arms of the chair and carefully lowered my butt to the floor. Stephanie's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, obviously worried about me, so I kept my face blank against the pain. Leaning my back against the front of the chair, I kept my eyes fixed on Stephanie, ignoring the wary dog. Blackie backed up until he was touching Steph's legs, but he didn't growl. He stayed by Steph for several minutes, but curiosity got the better of him and he circled me a couple of times, getting closer with each pass. I waited patiently, enjoying listening to my Wonder Woman regale me with her tales of design magic and business acumen.

After a while, Blackie sniffed his way up my outstretched legs and then, keeping his eyes fixed on me, he sat down just out of my reach. I pulled my good leg up until my foot was flat on the floor and leaned my arm on my bent knee. Of course, Blackie stood up when I moved, but he didn't growl. After a minute or so, he stepped a little closer and gave me a thorough sniff then lay down next to me, his warm body tucked up against my thigh. I allowed myself a small smile.

Grinning, Stephanie started to get up and I shook my head. Frowning, she sat back down and continued telling me about her upcoming _Babe!_ campaign for Mother's Day. Blackie dropped his head on his front paws. I slowly inched my hand along the floor in front of him and when he didn't move, I raised it a little and scratched his ear. After I gave him a few strokes along his back, he rolled over and let me rub his belly. Mission accomplished! I stayed quietly on the floor for a few more minutes, petting the dog and listening to Steph. When she yawned again, I knew it was time to call it a night.

I pushed off from the floor, Blackie rising with me, and I immediately felt a sharp pain in my side. My leg couldn't hold my weight. I fell back in the chair as Frank and Steph rushed to my side. Frank was quiet, but shot me a stern look, while Steph was close to tears, crying, "Are you alright? You should have asked for help. Carlos, please… let us help you." I hated seeing the worry in her face and hearing the fear in her voice.

"I'm fine, Babe. I just stood up too fast. We're both tired and we need a good night's sleep. I can stay down here on the couch." I knew I'd never manage the stairs tonight, not in the sorry shape I was in.

"Frank…" I held out my arm to Steph's father to help me stand.

Both Frank and Stephanie spoke at once garbling the actual words, but I gathered that I wouldn't be sleeping on the couch tonight. I steeled myself for the long painful trek up the flight of stairs.

Frank pulled me up and handed me the cane. When I was steady on my feet, Frank put my arm around his shoulders and told Steph, "I'll take him up." And then he guided me down a hall and in front of a door. A quick push of a button and the door slid into the wall revealing a compact elevator. _An elevator?_ By way of explanation, Frank said, "The master bedroom is on the second floor." _Did Stephanie have a premonition when she bought this place? _

Blackie had been following on my heels and dashed into the elevator ahead of us. We rode up to the second floor and Frank helped me to Steph's bedroom – _our_ bedroom. As we walked into the room I took note of my surroundings. It was a large, pleasant room and it suited Stephanie, but it was a touch too feminine for my tastes.

Frank helped me to the bathroom and once there, I checked the bandage on my side. After the sharp pain earlier, I figured I'd torn a stitch or two and, sure enough, blood had seeped through the dressing. The hospital had sent us home with a supply of gauze bandages and tape, but Steph had them with her. Great! So she would know I'd torn something when she changed the dressing later.

Frank helped me over to the bed, with Blackie following me every step. "I'll go down and get your duffel," Frank said.

He glanced over his shoulder and quipped, "Sit. Lie down. Stay," looking pointedly at me, not at Blackie. I snorted. Frank and I were going to get along just fine.

Thankful for Frank's aid to get here, I sank down on the bed and tucked the cane between the bed and the nightstand. Hating my weakness, I knew I'd be taking a pain killer before trying to sleep. Maybe I should take one of the sedatives, too. If I was going to lie next to Stephanie all night and not be able to do what both my mind and body yearned to do with her, it was better if I knocked myself out. We were exhausted from the past few days and the long drive here. We both needed a good night's sleep. But after tonight, all bets were off.

_Stephanie's POV_

After bringing in our things from the car, I followed my father up to my bedroom… _oops_…Carlos' and my bedroom. Superman was lying on the bed, his back against the headboard and his hand rubbing his forehead. I knew he was still experiencing excruciating headaches and he looked exhausted. Blackie was sitting obediently on the rug next to the bed, his dark eyes flitting from me to Carlos.

I was still shaking my head at Carlos' mastery over my little puppy. I thought Blackie might be a _little_ jealous of Carlos, but I wasn't expecting him to be so protective of me. I also wasn't expecting Carlos to be so gentle with Blackie. I knew Carlos could be a violent man; he had to be capable of it if he was in Delta Force. But he didn't use force or commands or even resort to yelling with Blackie. He simply took charge and expected Blackie to fall in step behind the leader. And that's just what happened.

Dad placed Carlos' bag on the bench at the foot of the bed and excused himself. He kissed my cheek as he left the room and I heard his bedroom door close. I tried not to be embarrassed, but I'd never slept with a man while my father was in the room next door. Then I took another look at Carlos and all the guilt and embarrassment went away. This was my MAN! And there was nothing that was going to keep me from sleeping with him. However, tonight we were just going to sleep together, no sex, unfortunately. _Be strong, Steph. Carlos needs you to be strong. _

"Querida, would you hand me my duffel, please?"

Carlos sat up on the side of the bed as I gave him his bag. I saw him wince as he hefted the canvas suitcase, and then his face went blank. Carlos was trying very hard not to let me see how much pain he was in.

He dug around in the bag and pulled out a towel, unfolding it to reveal a picture frame. After staring at it for a moment, his lips twitched up at the corners and then he placed the frame carefully on the nightstand. I glanced at it and my heart skipped a beat. It was the love contract I'd given Carlos that Sunday night at _Rosa's_, seemingly a lifetime ago. The paper was wrinkled, but it was carefully pressed into the picture frame. In spite of everything he'd been through the past six months, Carlos had kept the contract and by the worn look of it he had read it many, many times.

My eyes filled with tears and I moved over to Carlos and stood between his legs. He pulled me close and buried his face against my breasts. I held on to him as if my life depended on melding our two bodies together. If only we could stay like this forever.

After an endless moment, Carlos gazed up at me, his beautiful brown eyes soft and at peace. In a soft voice, he recited part of the contract I'd written, "_I believe in you, I trust in you, and I have faith that you will always be there for me, as I will always be there for you. You are my hero, you are my lover, and you are my best friend. I pledge myself completely to you today and for all of my tomorrows. I give myself to you and take you to myself as my one true love for as long as we both shall live. I will wait for you no matter how long it takes. Never give up, no matter how dark things are. Just follow the yellow brick road home to me, and let me take you into my arms so that we can start our new life together!" _

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Babe, that's just what I did and now I'm here, in your arms, ready to start our life together. You have no idea what a miracle that is – how many things had to happen just right for me to be here with you tonight."

Tears started to run down my cheeks. He'd memorized the words I'd written.

"I love you, Babe," he uttered, soft and low.

"I love you, too, Carlos."

Lifting up his hands, he cupped my face and brushed my tears away with his thumbs. "Your words, and your love, Babe… you can't have any idea what they meant to me or the amazing impact they had on me as I read your contract very single day we were apart. They gave me the strength to go on, to believe I would make it back to you, no matter what it took. Your first sentence, '_Who would I be without you in my life?' _Dios, I doubt I would even be alive without you, without your love and your belief in me… in us."

He brushed more tears from my cheeks. "You saved me. You realize that, don't you?" he asked.

Not having an answer, I leaned down and kissed him, our first kiss in our home. Carlos pulled me tighter and returned my kiss. It felt so right; my entire body relaxed against his.

He continued his thought, "I keep going back to our first night together. If you hadn't been the totally honest person you are, I would have had a glorious night with you, and I would have fallen in love with you, but I would not have allowed myself to admit it. Come morning, we would have gone our separate ways and our night together would have truly become the night that never happened. But you wouldn't let me go; you wouldn't let me lie to myself. You forced me to admit that I had fallen in love with you. And you convinced me to believe that we could have a future together in spite of my mission and its ninety percent fatality prediction. I don't know whether it was your belief in me or my belief in us or if it was destiny, but here we are, against all odds. We made it!"

"Yes, we made it!" I breathed, gazing into his beautiful eyes, memorizing the angular planes of his face, the look of love in his eyes. I assured him, "For me there was never any doubt. I admit I had a hard time with you being gone, but I never questioned that you'd come back to me. We are meant to be together." I leaned down and kissed him again.

"And now, we're in our home and we can begin our lives as a couple. I know, you still have a year and a half to serve, but I have faith they'll let you spend it as a trainer, not as a fighting soldier. Because if you have to go back into battle, I'm coming with you. I refuse to be separated from you ever again. I couldn't bear it." Carlos chuckled and pulled me down for another kiss.

I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but I couldn't help myself. I kissed him back and it was not a gentle kiss. I fisted my hands in his hair and pulled him to me, devouring his mouth and his kisses. Time stopped as passion built within both of us. I could never get enough of him, of his kisses… his caresses. After several passion-filled minutes, Carlos reluctantly pulled away. Both of us were breathing heavily as we stared at one another.

Then a huge grin split his face and he joked, "Not now, dear, I have a headache."

I burst out laughing at the facetious excuse, which was just what we needed to calm us both down. Still grinning, he said, "That's the only time you'll ever hear that from me."

I fired back, "And you'll never hear that excuse coming from me either." I leaned my forehead against his. I knew he really did have a splitting headache, but it wasn't the pain that stopped him. Despite the romantic setting, now was not the time to follow our instincts or our desires, no matter how strong those urges were. Dr. Livingston had discussed his still serious condition with Carlos, as well as with me, and the doctor didn't pull any punches. We both knew we needed to go slow and give his body time to heal.

Carlos grabbed his bag again and pulled out a couple of prescription bottles. I knew Dr. Livingston had given him scripts for both painkillers and sleeping pills, but I was surprised when Carlos took one of each. Relief swept through me; I wasn't going to have to use my Mama Bear voice to get my hot-blooded Cuban lover to behave tonight.

Blackie, however, was another case entirely. He was used to sleeping with me and I was pretty sure Carlos wouldn't share our bed, even with a cute little puppy. Blackie had jumped up on the bench and stepped over onto the bed. We both watched him take his usual place on the bed next to my side. He circled three times and curled up on the pillow, content and relaxed.

Carlos glanced at me and gave a slight shake of his head before he stood and began to take off his shirt. It was slow going and when he finally got the shirt off, he turned to face me. I gasped. Blood had seeped through his bandage.

"You're bleeding!" I moved to his side. "Let me see how bad it is."

I reached for the bandage, but he stopped me. "It's not that bad. Before we go to bed, I'll have you tape me up a little tighter to put more pressure on the wound. It'll be fine. But first, let me set things straight with Blackie."

I started to protest, but Carlos held up his hand. Keeping my man quiet for the next week was definitely going to be harder than I thought. As soon as he did whatever discipline he was going to do with my sweet little dog, then I would jump in with my own form of discipline with my not so sweet, not so little, big bad wolf.

Carlos gave the shirt a quick fold and dropped it on the floor next to the bed. I didn't think my fiancé was a slob, so I was curious what would happen next. Carlos locked eyes with Blackie. Then he snapped his fingers once and pointed down at his shirt, maintaining his stare at Blackie. I watched, amazed, when Blackie slinked off the pillow and jumped down to the floor. He curled up on Carlos' shirt and laid his head on his paws. And that was the last time Blackie ever jumped on the bed without an invitation.

**TBC**


	44. Chapter 44 Chapter 128

_AN: Stephanie finally has Carlos home, safe and sound, but he still has a lot of healing to do. Can Wonder Woman use her wiles to keep her Superman quiet long enough for that to happen? _

**CHAPTER 128**

_Stephanie's POV_

The next few days were quiet and relaxing. Carlos seemed content to have me by his side and I had no desire to be any place else. After our first night home, when he had ripped his wound a little, and I had ripped him a new one about taking it easy, he was much more restrained and amenable to not pushing himself. And for me seeing Carlos bleeding through his stitches and the raw wounds marring his flawless body gave me a renewed resolve to keep him quiet so he could heal.

I was able to take the week off so I could stay home and nurse my fiancé back to health. Dad was available whenever he was needed to help Carlos get around and, to my surprise, Superman didn't fight Dad or me on using the elevator or the cane, at least for the first few days.

I didn't see Dad and Carlos do too much talking together, but I did notice a change in both of them after I'd been out grocery shopping. I came home and found them in the basement drinking a beer and laughing. Dad's old Army stuff was strewn about and they were listening to old Motown records. Things had been okay between them before that, but after that day they were even more comfortable with each other. Dad seemed less withdrawn and smiled a lot more. I don't know what they talked about, but it had been good for both of them. They were vague when I asked about it, so I just dropped it. I figured it was good for Carlos to have a positive father figure and Dad seemed to really enjoy having another man around the house.

Those first days at home, Carlos and I spent a lot of time quietly curled up in bed or on the sofa. I was in heaven just being able to spend long amounts of time in Carlos' arms, and he seemed to enjoy it, too. He frequently napped, which Dr. Livingston said would probably happen. He said Carlos' body would demand the rest if Carlos would allow himself to follow his body's cues. Now that he was out of the coma, watching him sleep so peacefully was an enjoyable time for me. I loved looking at him, and I was thrilled he was finally home and safe.

We did everything as a couple, which was a new experience for both of us. We ate breakfast, lunch and dinner together, though frequently we each ate different things. My fiancé was really serious about eating healthy; I was serious about eating food that tasted good. Carlos showed me that adding a few spicy ingredients could really jazz up plain boring foods. But even lemon chicken couldn't compete with a good Italian meatball sub. Even Rex agreed with me. Carlos finally got to meet Rex, the Mighty Beast. Neither seemed too impressed with the other. Carlos offered my little hamster a piece of his whole wheat sprout and avocado sandwich, but Rex preferred my peanut butter and green olive sandwich. Rex was _my_ little boy after all.

Carlos and I talked a lot: about our families, our work and our future. He told me about the intense argument with his father and the following conversation they'd had while he was in the hospital. Carlos was still surprised by his father's admission to being a lousy parent and his apology for treating him so badly. He was skeptical and not quite ready to believe that his father could change and I couldn't blame him. Only time would tell.

As the week progressed, so did Carlos' recovery. After the first few days, we expanded our activities. I wasn't much of an exerciser, but Carlos insisted on lightly stretching his muscles a little every day and I figured it couldn't hurt me if I joined him. _It could… and did!_ But at least when I exercised with him, I could slow him down if he got too energetic. After our "workout," we'd sit on the deck and watch Blackie play in the backyard for awhile.

When he was more comfortable walking with his cane, Dad and I gave Carlos a tour of the townhouse. I loved my place, but I knew it might not meet Carlos' needs or expectations so I hung back to watch his reaction. He was duly impressed with all four bedrooms on the second floor, and the family room and kitchen on the ground floor, but his eyes truly lit up when he saw the study. I knew he was anxious to start planning his security business and the study would give him a place he could call his own. I'd already setup my drafting table in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs that had great morning light, so my "home office" was set. The study could be Carlos' home office.

I was surprised at his response to the formal dining room. "Babe, this room is huge! We could fit both our families in here at the same time." That frightening scene played out in my head as I envisioned our very different families eating dinner together and, suddenly, I burst out laughing. Carlos must have had the same thought because he started laughing, too, but unfortunately, he must have laughed too hard. Suddenly, he grabbed his side and immediately sobered up. His knife wound was still quite tender, a reminder that he had more recuperating to do.

As we moved through the first floor, we skimmed over the powder room and elevator since he'd already made use of them, but I showed him the laundry room that had tickled me so much the first time I saw it. The sight of my beautiful washer and dryer got a blank-faced response from Carlos. I guess men don't get excited about having the convenience of a laundromat in one's own home, at least not the way women do.

Upon seeing the two-car garage though, his eyes sparkled and he gave his whole-hearted approval. We talked a little about what kind of vehicle he might get. Dad pushed for a Buick, but I think Carlos was leaning more toward a Porsche Cayenne. However, a second car was on hold until we knew what would happen with the rest of Carlos' military service. Until then, he would probably just rent a vehicle.

Then we all rode the elevator to the basement, which Dad had turned into his and Blackie's man cave. It was still largely an unfinished space and I could see the wheels turning in Carlos' mind about the possibilities. Dad even offered to help build whatever we wanted for the room. We left Dad and Blackie in their man cave and took the elevator back to the first floor. I could see all the walking had tired Carlos even though he hid it well so I asked him to join me on the sofa so we could talk about our plans for the house.

I wanted him to feel at home and offered to redecorate any of the rooms to reflect more of his tastes. When he mentioned he wouldn't mind a more neutral color for the bedroom, something other than green, _my_ wheels started turning. I'd been wanting to get a different rug for that room ever since I moved in, so a little painting and shopping for new curtains and bed linens were right in order. And this way, both Carlos and I could have a project we could do together as well as making the house truly ours.

Carlos pulled me into a warm embrace and said, "This is a great place, Stephanie. I like it! It's spacious, yet comfortable! I can see us living here for quite a few years." He looked upward at the ceiling and the floor above, and then whispered in my ear, "There's even room to grow. Three spare bedrooms to fill." I blushed and buried my head in his shoulder. Of course, I'd had the same thought and could even picture how beautiful our children would be, but to have it spoken out loud made it seem more real.

It was still hard for me to believe I actually owned such a wonderful home. I would have to ask Mateo to help me add Carlos's name to the deed. When he found out the good deal I'd wangled for the house and all the furniture, Carlos told me he'd let me negotiate all our future real estate purchases. I even got a "Proud of you, Babe."

By mid-week, Carlos was released from the 'no mental activities' restriction, so we began by watching TV together – sports, of course. I think my favorite time with Carlos was our late evenings when we lay in bed side by side each reading a book. I was reading "Three Men and a Body," a romantic comedy with a thriller twist, and trying to imagine that kind of outlandish life that throws you in daily contact with dead bodies, obsessed stalkers and madcap antics. No such craziness for this girl, _no siree, bob_! At my request, Carlos read me a few excerpts of the book Dad had lent him, "Islands of the Damned: A Marine at War in the Pacific." It gave me some insight into what both he and my father had gone through during their respective missions.

Dad was trying very hard to stay out of our way, but still be available to help Carlos get around. They really only spent time together when I was out running errands. Once, when I came home early, I overheard Carlos talking to Dad about his Vietnam War experiences. Even though there was a considerable span of time between their years of military service, it sounded like they shared similar experiences. I know it was good for Dad to have someone to talk to about a subject he'd kept buried for decades, and I loved to see my father and my fiancé bonding over their time in the Army.

Spending this first week at home with Carlos, I felt like we were a normal couple, doing normal everyday things. Normal, except for the fact that my man had a gunshot wound in his leg, a knife wound way too close to his heart and ugly painful bruising on his chest where he'd taken several bullets surviving only because he'd been wearing a bulletproof vest. I was dying to know how he had been injured, but I knew better than to ask. That was a part of his life he couldn't share with me.

There were times, when he didn't think I was looking, I saw him rub his forehead in an attempt to ease the headaches that still plagued him from the concussion he'd suffered. He seemed to enjoy the massages, especially the scalp massages I gave him, but he still made quite a dent in the bottle of painkillers. And even with his frequent naps, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow at night. Like the doctor said, his body would find a way to tell him what it needed.

However, each morning he woke up horny as hell and I had to struggle to resist not only _his_ ardent overtures, but my own urges as well. It helped that I was the one changing his bandages every day and could see how bad his injuries still were. Much to my dismay – and Carlos' – sex would have to wait a few more days.

Both Carlos and I were adamant that we spend this first week at home by ourselves. Family and friends respected our privacy, but we spent a considerable amount of time on the phone reassuring everyone that we were fine and would be ready to begin socializing after a week or so, but not before.

By the fourth day, Carlos made it clear he felt better… _much better_. He told my father he didn't need his help getting around anymore; the cane was sufficient. Dad had a busy morning with his part-time cab and as soon as my father was out the door, Carlos started nuzzling my neck.

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa!_" I placed my hands against his chest and gently pushed him away from me. "You may be Superman, but it's still too soon for any strenuous activity. And if memory serves me correctly, the activities that come after neck nuzzling get downright energetic."

"Babe, gimme a break," he coaxed, drawing me in close and running his hands over my backside. "I've been real good for days now. You can't expect me to sleep next to you… smell you… feel you… and still remain a chaste monk." He pulled me in tight and I could feel his erection against my stomach.

"_Oh, Carlos_…" I moaned and tried to hold him at least a few inches away, "I would love to make love to you, but we still need to go slow. I changed your dressings last night… your wounds are still really raw. If you ripped your stitches again, I'd never forgive myself."

"But, Babe, the arousal sequence has already begun. I'm desperate for a happy ending."

That obvious ploy got a short snort from me, but he was right. My man deserved some sexual satisfaction. Carlos was an incredibly high libido alpha male and through him, I'd discovered how much I enjoyed sex. It would help relax him and we needed the closeness, but with his injuries I couldn't let him make love to me the way we both wanted. And then I got a gleam in my eye.

I stepped back, pulled myself up to my full 5 feet, 7 inches and struck an imperious pose, hands on my hips and my shoulders arched back.

I cut my eyes to Carlos and in an icy tone, I said, "I am Intergalactic Princess Stephanie of the Planet Bel Aire and _you_…" my lips curved up in a wicked grin, "… _are my sex slave_."

Now, I had Carlos' full attention.

I was enjoying getting back into my first _Anything Goes_ role. Trying to look superior and regal, I said in a haughty tone, "You exist only for my gratification. You will submit instantly to any order I deign to give you and you _will not_ question me in any way. I will have my wicked way with you, but you must remain perfectly still and you are NOT to touch me. Is that understood?"

A slow grin had spread across Carlos' face as I was talking and he answered, "I understand, Your Infinitely Sexy Magnificence." His voice had become husky in his arousal. And he was more than ready to play the game.

Thrusting my arm out, I commanded, "Get yourself ready for me," pointing toward the elevator. I saw just how nimble Carlos was with his cane. We returned to our bedroom in record time. He closed the door before Blackie could slip in behind us. My little puppy had been Carlos' shadow ever since the night we'd come home and I was sure he'd still be waiting outside the door when we finally came back out.

Carlos leaned against the bedroom door and looked me up and down, desire burning in his chocolate brown eyes. I could feel the heat intensify between my thighs and there was a distinct dampness. I knew my panties would be ruined before this little game was over.

He reached for me and I danced away, smiling and teasing, "_You want me!_ You want to fuck me _soooo_ bad."

"Damn straight," he admitted, leaning on his cane, staring eagerly at me. Then he pulled back and added, "but only at your command, Your Magnificence."

I'd almost forgotten we were playing a game. I arched my neck and wiped the smile off my face. "That's right! You have good manners, slave. And for that you will be richly rewarded. But there will be _no_ fucking."

My slave lover frowned and I almost laughed, but as an Intergalactic Princess I had to keep my haughty attitude in place. "I have _other _plans for you. And remember, I own you and every body part on you. They are mine to do with as I please. And this…" I lightly grabbed the obvious protrusion in Carlos' sweat pants, "pleases me – immensely." My intimate touch on his immense organ elicited a low groan from him, which continued as I slowly led him over to the bed by his erect cock.

"Sit down," I commanded. He eased himself down onto the bed being careful not to jostle his bandaged areas. But he was unable to wipe the smile from his face as he stared hungrily at me. I stared back at him, but mine was a haughty stare and I kept it up until he put on a poker face and lowered his gaze… to my breasts. Such an impertinent slave!

"I wish to examine your equipment before I decide if I will have my wicked way with you, slave." I ran my hand down his toned muscled chest, being careful not to get near his bandaged wound, and let my fingers trace the bulge in his pants. "I can feel you have promise, but I will accept nothing but perfection." Using slow deliberate moves, I started unbuttoning his shirt.

In a smug tone, Carlos assured me, "I am confident, Your Terrifically Hot Sexiness, that you will find my 'equipment' is more than satisfactory to meet even your imperially high standards."

"_Hmmmph_. I shall be the judge of that." I was on the last button and slid my hand across his pecs and tweaked his left nipple, making him suck in air. "Taut, smooth, responsive. So far, so good. Is the rest of you this impressive, slave?"

"Even more so the lower you go," he boasted and his ear-to-ear smile returned briefly.

"You find me amusing, most lowly and worthless of slaves?" I queried frigidly.

My slave didn't look repentant for his impertinence. Instead, he had an air of supreme confidence about him, though he did tone down his arrogance a smidgen. "No, Your Magnificence. I would never dare to be so bold. I find you extraordinarily exquisite and sexily sumptuous."

"As is my due," I quipped. I was getting massively turned on by the sight and feel of his hard body and had to remind myself there would be no sexual satisfaction for me today. Carlos' stitches still couldn't take any stress, which would result if he tried to move his body too much. My day – to cum – would come, and soon.

After his shirt was off and I'd critically assessed his pecs, abs and biceps, I started on his pants. He was wearing sweats so removing them was much easier than the tight jeans he frequently wore that showcased his firm backside so well. He gave out a little moan as the waistband of his sweats caught on his erection requiring some extra hands-on attention from me to release him from the confines of his pants. He'd been going commando since he'd come home and it had been driving me nuts, being unable to touch him like this. The sight – and feel – of his magnificently large cock standing firmly at attention never failed to take my breath away. When I had him naked and clearly ready for me, I motioned him to lie back.

Again, I warned him, "As my sex slave, you must do exactly as I command. You will not move a muscle. You will keep your hands at your sides at all times. If you move even an inch, I'll stop what I'm doing and leave you with a bad case of blue balls. What do you say, o lowest of slaves?"

"Your Most Heavenly Hotness, I swear I will not move an inch… except for…" and he glanced down at his twitching cock, fighting back another smile. Gazing back up at me with the slightest hint of a grin, he gave his oath, "I exist only to serve you, to do anything in my power to please and pleasure you. This body is yours to do with as you will, My Most Magnificent Babeness. My fondest memories are as your lowly Slave. I dream of your magic Intergalactic Princess hands and even more magic Intergalactic Princess mouth. I am fortunate beyond my wildest expectations to have you as my Mistress. I'm more than ready to be royally ravaged."

"That's what I want to hear," I said as I climbed on the bed. Starting at his feet, I inched my way up between his legs, purring and slinking with what I hoped was a seductive tiger crawl. Being very careful not to touch his injured leg, I let my hands slide their way along his other leg, laying little kisses on his smooth mocha latte skin. My ultimate destination was right in front of me standing upright like a royal scepter. I couldn't wait to hold that royal instrument, all 11 inches of hard XXXL, in my hands.

Carlos was fixated on every move I made and I was surprised when he spoke. "Your Most Amazing Awesomeness, I respectfully ask an indulgence, if you will allow me."

I pursed my lips as if considering saying no, and then I nodded. "You may ask, but if it displeases me, I will take out my anger on your nearest body part," I sneered, looking directly at his erect cock.

Without skipping a beat, my super sexy hot slave continued, "It would greatly honor your most humblest of slaves to be able to see your beautiful royal breasts. The mere sight of them would certainly… _um_… motivate my best performance."

I wanted to laugh at his attempt to get his way and I swear, Carlos could get me do anything he wanted with just one of his sexy smiles, but I was Intergalactic Princess Stephanie and I had my reputation to maintain.

Putting some righteous rage in my voice, I huffed, "How _dare_ you presume to ask anything so brazen of your Lady and Mistress. You are supremely unworthy to even gaze upon My Magnificence fully clothed, let alone have the good fortune to see my Awesomeness naked. I should gouge your eyes out so you don't get too excited and forget my command to remain motionless."

Carlos lowered his eyes, but only as far as my boobs. "I do not presume to be worthy, your Sensuous Stateliness, I am simply overwhelmed by the majesty of your Magnificent Mounds, your Grand Teat-ons."

"Enough! I do not appreciate your puny, _make that punny_, attempt at humor," I barked out, choking back my giggles at his corny joke. "However, I do find myself getting a bit warm," I said as I lifted my t-shirt over my head.

His eyes flashed with excitement when I unsnapped the hooks on my bra. As my breasts swung free from the lacy bra's confines, I got an appreciative moan from him, but true to his word he didn't move. I had the fleeting thought that I should get totally naked too, because I'd already ruined my panties just from looking at his magnificent body and even more magnificent erection. But I knew if I kept my jeans on it would help me resist his charms – verbal and physical – and both were considerable, to say the least.

Lifting my hands to his hips, I let my fingers trace the sexy V-line bulge of the well-defined muscles that angled toward the base of his penis. His skin was warm to the touch and became warmer the farther south my fingers went. His erect penis actually was hot to the touch. As my fingertips circled the junction of his body and cock, he shifted his hips just a fraction.

Glancing up at him, I fixed him with an imperial glare and commanded, "Stop moving! Or I'll separate your most prized possession from your body!"

I heard him inhale sharply and he immediately stilled and barked out, "_Yes, Mistress_," while trying to suppress another ear-to-ear grin.

We were just playing a game right now, but as I took in the sexy masculine vision before me, I realized just how much power I had over this most powerful man. Brawn and even brains weren't the only sources of power when it came to the relationship between a man and a woman. I knew I had the power to make him do most anything for me; I also knew I had to wield that power judiciously. I was struck again at how beautiful Carlos was and how much I enjoyed looking at him. The next few minutes would allow me to gaze at my man as I stroked him, without feeling like I was gawking at him. Sometimes, I couldn't believe my good fortune that he'd chosen me that night in the Hilton bar.

Before I touched his cock with my hands, I used my mouth and my breath. With long slow licks, I bathed his cock and then blew warmly on the dampness. I repeated the action on his tight sac and was rewarded with hums of approval. Pulling my legs up under me so I could balance better, I wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and let my other hand caress his balls. He moaned once and his breathing quickened. I started with little ice cream licks all around the swollen head and then dragged my tongue across the slit to taste his pre-cum. That got _me_ moaning.

My gaze locked on Carlos' heavy lidded bedroom eyes, and I could feel his desire increase as his body tensed. I started stroking and licking in earnest, using my tongue to tease him. Then I lowered my mouth on his shaft and began to suck him greedily. His moans were soft at first as he tried to smother them, but as I put more energy into my movements, he gradually gave up all attempts to quiet his sounds of pleasure. I watched his fists clench the sheets, and secretly marveled at how willing he was to take my orders, at least in bed.

He repeatedly splayed his fingers opened and closed, but he was as good as his word and didn't move. While I nibbled on the ridge along the underside of his erection, he fisted his hands in the sheets and gasped, "Babe," and followed that with a mumbled, "Your Magnificence."

I loved the feel of his cock in my mouth, but it was so large I could only take in the first few inches. I had to use both hands around the base to ensure that every inch of his cock was stimulated. When he raised his hips a fraction, I let my teeth scrape against the shaft and he instantly stilled. Good slave! Trying hard not to grin, I continued stroking, speeding up my licks.

Since Carlos couldn't move or use his hands to stroke me, he started talking to me instead. "That feels incredible. It's been so long, too long. I've been dreaming of this for forever, Babe. You know just what to do to make me feel out of this world. Dios, can you keep that up for an hour or two?"

His upper body moved a little and I knew he wanted to sit up and watch me as I took as much of him as I could into my mouth, but he was also trying hard to follow my orders, like the good soldier he was.

He had dropped out of character, but we were both so into the moment, I didn't care. His body was tensing and straining and he was fighting every urge to move. I could feel his abdominal muscles tighten and I was worried he might pull apart the stitches that held together the edges of that nasty knife gash along his side. I needed to bring this love session to a climax before things got out of hand. I tightened my grip and sped up my strokes and heard what I was waiting for: a series of low moans emanating from my man. I looked up at Carlos and his eyes were shut tight and he was biting his lower lip in an effort to remain stock still. Again, I like a slave that obeys his mistress' commands. I rewarded him by taking as much of his cock into my mouth as possible.

And then, with a deep guttural groan, my Cuban sex slave got his happy ending and Intergalactic Princess Stephanie got her just desserts.

**TBC**


	45. Chapter 45 Chapter 129

**CHAPTER 129**

_Stephanie's POV_

Our week alone at home went by way too quickly. Carlos got a little better, a little stronger, every day. By the end of the week he was using the stairs instead of the elevator and he started walking Blackie at least twice a day. The walks were slow, as Carlos still used a cane. He said the walks were for exercise, but I know he was starting to enjoy my puppy. I also think he wanted to reconnoiter the neighborhood, you know, the "be aware of your surroundings" thing. Even when he was 'off-duty' he was a Delta Force soldier.

Carlos and I had put aside all work and family demands for the week. My father tried to make himself available early in the morning and in the evening if Carlos needed help, but other than that, Dad tried really hard to stay out of our hair so we could be alone.

We couldn't spend our time in bed, at least not as we would have liked. We did, however, spend some time each morning playing our modified sex fantasy game. Each day I chose another domineering role for me to play and a subservient role for Carlos, as I insisted he not do anything that might reinjure himself. We played Big Bad Nurse and lusty Patient in a full-body cast, Mistress Marionette Manipulator with her well-endowed playful puppet, horny Lana Lang with a necklace of kryptonite and a weakened Superman and, of course, the classic Dominatrix and her submissive sex slave. The costumes were fun to put together and added to the light-hearted, though sexy atmosphere. And through it all, both Carlos and I tried very hard to let me satisfy him solely with my hands and mouth, but each day got more and more difficult. My hot-blooded Cuban lover was rapidly recovering from his injuries and, despite my best efforts at restraint, he wasn't about to let a little pain stop him from satisfying his – and my – urges.

I had been relying on my trusty shower massager for my own sexual relief, but toward the end of the week Carlos finally wore me down and, to my delight and profound relief, I let my Cuban lover have his way with me using only his Wizard of Ahhs hands, which were truly magical. No one could "stir the soup" like the Wizard. It was agony for us not to go any farther, but we stayed the course. It was a true test of love and self-control.

As we lay in bed, basking in our mutual masturbation afterglow, Carlos whispered in my ear, "Remember the Wizard of Ahhs and your Doomsday Orgasm?"

"Do I ever!" I replied with a nod and a smile, too content to do much else.

"Your next Doomsday Orgasm is just around the corner," he promised. "I have something to remind you of that memorable experience, but now that time means so much more to me than just amazing sex. Each one of our incredible fantasies is burned on my brain, but that one is extra special for me. I thought I was leading you down that yellow brick road, helping you to soar over the rainbow, into the unknown. But, Babe, the surprise was on me. You led me down that same yellow brick road, helping me to trust… and to love… and to believe in our future."

He kissed my forehead and hugged me a little tighter and his voice dipped even lower, "I know I've said it before, but you saved me that night and, possibly you saved a lot more lives. If you hadn't made me openly acknowledge that I loved you and that we had a future together…" he paused and closed his eyes for a moment as if remembering something extremely difficult, "in spite of a very fucked up mission, I would have made some key decisions in a very different frame of mind – a fatalistic frame of mind instead of a hopeful one. I don't know if any of it would changed a pivotal decision I had to make – I'll never know – but I know you changed my attitude and I know that it made a huge difference in me, and my team, making it home not only alive but coming home early."

I was actively listening now, hearing the deep emotion in Carlos' voice and I knew this was about so much more than the pleasurable sex we'd just had. He was talking about his Delta Force mission. And, _omigod_, he was giving me credit for giving him hope for a future, for giving him a reason to do whatever it took to return home, safe, to me. I couldn't help but wonder what was that pivotal decision he'd had to make during his mission?

I said what was in my heart, "What I remember is that you kept telling me I could do anything, be anyone I wanted, and I loved you for believing in me, for helping me believe in my own _Wonder Womanness_." I grinned at the silliness of my words, but the deep feelings were there. "I couldn't let you do any less. I knew if you loved me, if you truly believed in us that you would find a way to rise above anything; that you, Superman, would make it happen. And you did!"

Our kiss was spontaneous and mutual… and hot! When we broke apart, Carlos reached over and removed something from the nightstand drawer. He placed a small box on my stomach and, with his eyes, encouraged me to open it. It was the same box that all my wonderful charms had come in. With a shaking hand, I took the box and sat up so my back was against the headboard. Carlos joined me. I opened the lid and when I saw what it contained, I smiled and my eyes filled with tears. And darn it, my nose stung a little and then started to run. I was a leaking sieve.

"Click your heels three times, Babe, and say the magic words," he instructed.

I sniffled and picked up my newest charm, taking a closer look at it. It was a breath-taking charm in the form of a pair of dainty gold shoes encrusted with dozens of small red rubies and it came with a gold wand set with tiny diamonds. Dorothy's ruby red slippers so coveted by the Wicked Witch of the West. But all the evil forces hadn't been able to pry those slippers away from Dorothy. And nothing had stopped me from believing in and loving my Wizard of Ahhs.

Our eyes met and I smiled, tapping the beautiful little slipper charm three times and saying the magic words, "I love you, I love you, I love you. Carlos, you are _everything_ to me. You are Superman, you are the Wizard, you are a Cuban sex god." He grinned at the last title. I snapped the jewelry box shut and put on my most wicked grin. "Maybe I can't give you your own Doomsday Orgasm right now, but I can definitely give you another happy ending."

"Babe," was all he said as he pulled me to him for a searing kiss and then I slid down his hard frame to his rapidly rising cock; my only goal was making him moan a wizardly _Ahhhhh_!

While our brief daily sexcapades were extremely enjoyable, it was obvious that by the end of the week Carlos was tiring of his passive role. Soon he would take matters into his own capable hands, and other very capable body parts, and I would finally get royally fucked. I couldn't wait. But until then, my goal was to keep my still healing soldier man as happy and quiet as possible until he got the all clear at his next doctor's visit at the end of the week.

In the meantime, we spent most of our time together getting to know one another through conversation and daily routines. I loved watching him shave each morning and he reciprocated by watching me try to tame my unruly curls. He liked to play with my hair and told me he preferred my wild and curly look to smooth and straight. And I loved his silky straight hair that was just long enough to run my fingers through. We learned little things about each other, like Carlos was very neat and organized while I leaned more toward the messy chaotic side. Carlos preferred classical music and I liked heavy metal. Carlos was quiet and I… well, I've never been quiet. I guess it's true that opposites attract.

We talked and we didn't always agree, but we didn't really argue either. Carlos wasn't the arguing type, but he did like to have certain things done his way. I could see by the way his mouth would tighten just a little that something was bothering him and I would wheedle and cajole until he would tell me what was bothering him.

The first time, it was the bed, our bed to be exact. I tended not to make it. I mean, what's the point? Why go to all that effort when we were just going to mess it up each night when we crawled back into it. But, it meant something to Carlos, maybe a habit picked up from his soldier days. So, each morning, we started a little ritual of making the bed together. I was more than willing to compromise to keep my lover happy.

And then there was the little matter with the toothpaste. Each morning and before bedtime, Carlos very neatly squeezes – from the bottom of the tube, of course – exactly one inch of paste onto his toothbrush and replaces the cap on the tube before brushing his teeth for exactly two minutes. I'm not saying he's obsessive or anything, but he does have a regular bathroom routine. I, on the other hand, tend to grab the tube any which way and squeeze a glob of paste on my brush and, occasionally, _only occasionally_, forget to put the cap back on. I figured out this bothered Carlos when I heard him sigh in exasperation one morning as he squeezed out an inch of rock hard paste onto his toothbrush. I laughed at the dour look on his face, but he didn't smile back. I promised to try harder to remember to put the cap back on. But I wasn't the only one with annoying habits.

One night, nature called in the middle of the night and I stumbled into the dark bathroom, pulled down my pajama bottoms and nearly fell into the toilet. Carlos had left the toilet seat up! When I crawled back in bed, I woke him up and complained loudly. He nodded once and it was the last time he ever left the seat up.

And just this morning, I was trying to decide what to wear and had laid out a couple of possible outfits on the bed and then the phone rang. When I came back to get dressed, all my clothes had disappeared. I found the blouses hanging in their rightful slot in the closet and my jeans and bra and panty sets were neatly folded back in my dresser drawers. _Sheesh!_ I was glad my fiancé wasn't a slob, but this was going too far. When I complained to Carlos, he shrugged and said he was just being helpful. It was my turn to sigh.

I thought we had resolved all our problems with my sweet little Blackie. I was proud of myself that I had let Carlos have his way with "training" my little dog _his_ way. I knew Carlos needed to have order and Blackie barking and running through the house wasn't very orderly. Since he didn't yell or hit Blackie, I didn't mind. But now he was saying I wasn't feeding Blackie right. _As if I would neglect my little boy!_ I bought a name brand kibble at the pet store and Blackie was thriving on it. Carlos insisted that Blackie needed a healthier, more natural type of kibble that didn't have any corn or wheat. He also wanted us to cook up the occasional "stew" of fresh lamb, cooked rice and vegetables. _Veggies_? _Really_? _For a dog_? He even brought home a bunch of fresh-made treats for my little puppy. No more Snausages or Bacon Beggin Strips for Blackie.

Even our own food was a point of contention. We prepared meals together and it was obvious that we liked different things. To bring us back together I showed off my cooking lessons from Ricardo and Rosa by making Carlos' favorite Cuban dishes. He loved that I was learning more about his heritage and he praised my Cuban cooking. He knew his father had given me several cooking lessons, but I couldn't mention all those evenings spent preparing meals with his grandmother. It would be impossible to explain away the language barrier, and Rosa's secret was not mine to divulge.

I did warn my fiancé not to get used to me cooking every day, though, which was fine with him. But he did insist we dine at restaurants and use take-out places that offered healthy options. For me, healthy options consisted of "vegetables" like French fries and tomato ketchup. I wasn't sure if our polar-opposite food preferences meant we'd each be eating in different diners or if we'd be ordering take out from two different places every night. But as long as Carlos was okay with me not cooking, I was okay with him picking the restaurants. Besides, I could always pig out on meatball subs, pizza and cheeseburgers during my lunch hour with Tina and the girls.

While we clearly still had some things to work on, we had the time to do just that now that my soldier was home. Some of our differences had relatively simple fixes, but others weren't so easy to resolve.

There was one thing that Carlos wanted me to do that I thought was unnecessary and well, overkill. He didn't argue with me; he explained his reasons and then expected me to step in line, like one of his soldiers. I refused. We were at an impasse.

"I'm not going to do it. That's all there is to it," I declared, my arms folded tightly against my chest.

With his hands on his hips, Carlos glared at me and said, "What is this… a mutiny?"

My eyes narrowed and my nostrils flared; you only mutiny against someone in charge of you. I huffed, "It can't be a mutiny, _Captain_ Mañoso, because _you're not the captain of me_. You're my partner, not my boss. I don't take orders!" I felt like jumping up on the coffee table and belting out, "Take your orders and shove it!" _a la_ shades of me quitting my old job at EE Martin.

He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not ordering you, Babe. I'm simply explaining why it's better, and why it's also safer. I don't understand why you're fighting me on this."

I shook my head in frustration. "It's unnecessary, it's nerve-racking and I just don't need the stress at the end of a long hard day. I do it the way everybody does it! I still don't see what the big deal is."

"Just because everybody else does it that way, doesn't mean it's the right way. My way is better."

"Your way is harder and, I guarantee you, it will lead to dents and scratches."

_Did he just roll his eyes at me?_ I know he sighed before he continued his _explanation_. "It's all a matter of being prepared and being safe. There are kids in the neighborhood and when we have kids, Babe, they're going to leave their toys and bikes in the driveway. This just simplifies matters and gives you a clear field of view as you leave the garage."

Yes, we were "discussing" which way to park the cars in the garage! I did it like 99% of people parked their cars. I pulled in head-first. Carlos insisted I back the car in so that when I drove out I was facing the driveway and street and could see if anything was in my way. I understood the logic, but it was such a pain to do when I came home, tired, from work. And when Carlos got his vehicle, the garage would be crowded and I was afraid of backing into his car or the wall. Nope, not going to do it. Can't make me! As I said, we were at an impasse!

One of the things we could agree on was cuddling. We spent an amazing amount of time cuddling and, of course, kissing. I'd never known a man who liked to kiss as much as Carlos and he was very good at it, exceptional even. I certainly had no complaints.

When Carlos' first week of recovery was over, he was cleared medically for light physical activities, including sedate sex. Nothing about Carlos, especially sex, could be considered sedate, but he could do _sensuous_ exquisitely.

Our first few nights of love-making were so emotional and beautiful, I had no words to describe them. Carlos took his, and my, sweet time for lots of "flowers and candlelight" romance, along with slow-building, _drive me crazy_ foreplay, then _breath-taking, earth-moving, fireworks-exploding_ intercourse, and finally, afterglow cuddling and spooning.

Compared to our previous wild encounters at the Newark Hilton Hotel, our love-making in our own home was quiet and slow and gentle, and absolutely perfect. I'd never had such a tender yet intense experience. I knew I loved Carlos before, but now I was totally, irrevocably and deeply in love with him. We could have stayed sequestered for months and not tire of each other. But that wasn't an option!

As our first week together came to an end, both of us were reluctant to jump back into our busy lives. However, that was an unreasonable expectation as our families were clamoring for our time and presence and I needed to return to work. Our Mother's Day campaign was in full swing and I was in demand to do interviews with the many media sources that covered the fashion industry.

I was excited to show Carlos where I worked and what all I did, because I did so much more than just design lingerie. I was involved in the business and marketing side of Books/Plum Designs also. I was learning a little about the manufacturing and production side, but that was really more of Dawson's field of expertise.

When we walked into the garage that first morning, I handed Carlos the keys to the Porsche, thinking he would insist on driving and then I received another lesson on how different Carlos was from other men.

"Babe, it's your car and we're going to your office. You know the best way to get there. I'm comfortable with you driving." He carefully lowered himself into the passenger seat, but you'd never know he'd been seriously injured just two weeks earlier.

We arrived at Books/Plum Designs a half hour before I normally did. It gave me time to take Carlos on a tour of the building and introduce him to my friends and co-workers. The women looked at him appreciatively and even the men treated him well. Carlos had a quiet, yet commanding presence about him that seemed to appeal to most everyone.

I chuckled when I realized that a couple of the younger girls from Admin had followed us down the hall to my office. They tried to pretend they were preoccupied with the papers in their hands, but they couldn't stop staring at Carlos and, I swear, one of them even walked into a wall, she was so mesmerized by my fiancé. I took another look at my gorgeous Superman and remembered how I felt the first time I saw him. I could barely speak in coherent sentences and I made an absolute fool of myself trying to be cool. Running into walls didn't seem so far-fetched.

He smiled appreciatively when he saw my office. "I'm surprised by how modern and stylish your office is. In fact, how modern the entire building is. Mateo had told me how out-of-date Books Designs was before you came on board. I expected something more old-fashioned."

I laughed. "That was my first thought, too. Dawson knew how bad things were with his company way before he hired me to design his lingerie. So, he had his sister, Catherine, who's an interior designer, and her husband, Marcus Ward, a well-known architect, renovate the offices. But he didn't know what to do to update the garments he sold. His first wife had been the fashion designer; he was the businessman. That is, until I came along."

"And your lingerie designs are that good?"

His comment took me back for a moment until I realized he wasn't criticizing me, it was just that he had no idea what it took to be successful in the fashion industry. I explained, "Before I came on board, Dawson's main lingerie line was white nylon granny panties. He wasn't keeping up with the changes in what women want to wear. Choosing the right intimate apparel is a major fashion statement for today's woman."

"I know how much I like looking at you wearing lingerie, but I hadn't given much thought to their design – other than the obvious arousal factor," he said.

"Spoken like a man! You only see lingerie as something to ogle and then rip off. Women want their clothes, even their bras and panties, to not only look good, but also fit well and wear comfortably all day long. And the fit must be tailored to women's various shapes. The same design for a woman who is a size 2 wouldn't work if you just enlarged it to fit a size 12 or a size 22 woman. The proportions, even the seams and panels, need to be different. Then there are the fabrics. Polyester is out. Here at Books/Plum Designs, we use only the best, and many fabrics are now a blend of several materials to ensure the best fit, easy care and wearability. And our new marketing campaign is wonderful. Our Mother's Day ads follow the success of our first campaigns. We don't use the typical tall, skinny 'perfect' model. Both our promotional ads and our sales catalogs feature photographs of everyday women of all ages, sizes, races and walks of life who still want to feel like they're sexy _Babes_."

"Have I told you how much I like the name of your lingerie line?" Carlos said, as he pulled me up close and nibbled on my ear.

I leaned in closer and let him nibble. "Well, I owe everything that's happened to me over the last few months to you, Superman. You and your challenge that I become my own Wonder Woman. I don't think I would have had the courage to take the leap of faith in myself if you hadn't believed in me first. I've taken so many risks, and so has Dawson, and I'm still amazed they've paid off. Our company's profits have soared and people all over the world are clamoring for the _Babe!_ line. It's mind-boggling!"

His voice was muffled as he continued kissing my neck, "_You_ are what's mind-boggling." He stopped nuzzling long enough to raise his head and tell me, "I knew you could do it, Babe. You can do anything you put your mind to."

Grinning, I stepped back, reluctantly leaving his arms. I sorted through the pile of large ad posters on my drafting table, pulled out one of the finished proofs and proudly held it up for Carlos to see. The photograph was of three smiling adult women who looked like they could be a grandmother, daughter and granddaughter. The top caption read, "_Mom/Mom/Mom (one above each woman) – She's still a Babe! Treat her like it." _The bottom caption read,_ "Treat her to Babe! lingerie for Mother's Day._"

He glanced at the poster, saying, "I see the appeal, not only to women, but to the men in these women's lives. The women are attractive and look happy and confident. The tag line says it all." Then he gave it a second look. "Is this the kind of ad my mother and grandmother were in?"

"Yeah, just a minute…" I answered and rummaged in the large flat file cabinet in the corner of my office. I kept copies of all our ads for reference and finally found the three I was looking for. I put them on the drafting table, Rosa's first "_Are you a Babe!_" ad on top and then waited for Carlos' reaction.

He studied the photo of his grandmother for a minute and then said, "Very nice! I've seen this likeness of my Abuela before. It was in my father's sketchbook. He must have used this ad as his inspiration. It's an excellent photo of my grandmother, though it's a bit disconcerting to see her looking so… "

"Sophisticated?" I asked.

"More like… disturbingly alluring," he replied, frowning. Carlos flipped the poster over to reveal the next photo, which was Teresa's ad. His eyes widened, he gave a sharp intake of breath and exclaimed, "I've definitely seen this pose before, although my father's drawing of it gave my mother's expression a more sensual and penetrating gaze, as if she was looking deep into the soul of the viewer. It's hard to acknowledge that side of my mother."

He looked at Rosa's second ad and smiled. "These are beautiful pictures, Babe, and, if they're targeted at women, they make a compelling marketing campaign. It's just difficult to think of my mother and grandmother as models, especially for lingerie. But, men like to buy sexy things for their ladies to wear, too. How are men going to know about the _Babe!_ brand?"

I went back to the corner files and found our Valentine's Day ad featuring Tina's curvy Latina form encased in our satin ivory teddy. Carlos let out a loud wolf whistle when he saw it and exclaimed, "Now I know why Lester was so impatient to meet Tina. She's an attractive girl, but in this sexy design of yours, she's smoking hot!" I gave his arm a playful slap for his wolf whistle, but I was proud of my best friend and of course, I was proud of my lingerie designs.

I showed him our online sales catalog and explained the differences in my designs compared to other companies and then showed him several more of our ads while I went into more detail about our philosophy behind our marketing campaigns and the research behind our reasoning to target women instead of men in the majority of our ads. He listened intently and asked good questions and was surprised to hear that most lingerie was purchased by women. And while women wanted to look sexy, they also wanted quality well-fitting apparel, not the uncomfortable stiff lace and polyester junk found in most department stores.

Carlos had been smiling at me as I rambled on. He stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers as he said, "Your eyes light up and your voice races when you talk about your work. You've obviously found your passion. And your success speaks for itself. You amaze me! You've truly become Wonder Woman. I'm so proud of you, Babe!" His words choked me up and I slipped back into his waiting arms and sought out his oh so kissable lips.

Dawson found us like that ten minutes later and he had to clear his throat several times before we heard him. "A week clearly wasn't long enough for you two," Dawson quipped as we broke apart, "but you're looking much better than the last time I saw you, Carlos. Welcome to Books/Plum Designs." Dawson was smiling as he extended his hand to my fiancé.

I was a little embarrassed, but Carlos was sporting a big grin as he held on to me with one arm and reached out with the other to shake hands with my boss. They exchanged greetings and a few pleasantries and then Dawson gave us some startling news.

"Your father came to see your grandmother and me yesterday, Carlos," he announced as if it were the news of the century, and indeed, in the Mañoso world, it was.

Carlos frowned as he asked, "I hope my father didn't aggravate my grandmother anymore than he already has. Stephanie has told me what happened at _Rosa's_ the night of your engagement party, and also his rudeness at your wedding."

"Well, at first, I wasn't going to let him in, given his past history. I'm very protective of your grandmother and I will not allow anyone, even Ricardo, to hurt my wife ever again. But he was very polite yesterday. He came with hat in hand, so to speak, and there was something different about him, a sense of humility that seemed genuine. He apologized to both of us for the way he'd reacted and for the terrible things he'd said the night of our engagement and then he asked Rosa for her forgiveness. I imagine it took a lot out of a man like your father to humble himself, but both Rosa and I felt he was sincerely sorry and regretted his words and his actions."

I jumped in, "I know Ricardo has been working hard to change his ways with Teresa and with Alex. And when I talked with Celia and Maria, they both mentioned that their father has stepped back from his usual criticisms and even stopped offering unasked for advice."

Dawson nodded, "I'd heard that too. Rosa and I have been blissfully happy together, but I know this rift between her and her son has weighed heavily on her heart. I hadn't held out much hope in him coming around, but I'm glad he did."

Carlos furrowed his brow and a slight lopsided grin showed on his face. "My father has been full of surprises. He and I had a similar talk while I was in the hospital. I still tend to disbelieve the permanence of the change. Honestly, I'm not sure what to make of my father anymore."

"Well, he certainly surprised Rosa and me when he gave us a belated wedding gift," Dawson said.

I saw Carlos raise one eyebrow and I know both my brows lifted, too.

Dawson explained, "Ricardo presented us with a framed sketch of the two of us. I didn't know your father was such a talented artist. The drawing was quite good. We were dressed as we'd been at our wedding and the pose of us he captured was very touching. It brought tears to Rosa's eyes and later she explained to me that her son had loved drawing as a boy, but was forced to put it away in favor of following in his father's footsteps and devoting himself to _Rosa's_. She felt that by him taking up sketching again, he was reclaiming himself in a way. Needless to say, she forgave him and so did I."

"Thank you for sharing this with me, Dawson. It's another piece of the puzzle that my father has become," Carlos said.

The three of us were silent for a moment and then Dawson took charge and turned to me. "Our staff meeting starts in a few minutes. I'll make a deal with you, Stephanie. If you lead the meeting this morning, you can take the rest of the week off, except for your Mother's Day interviews, of course. However, I must insist that the two of you join Rosa and me for dinner one night this week. My normally calm wife has been so fidgety and your presence in our home is the only thing that will put her at ease."

Carlos glanced over at me and I nodded. He said, "As I'm sure you're aware, the christening of my little sister's new baby is this afternoon and my mother has planned a big party afterward. She chose Monday because the family restaurant is closed on Mondays so my brother and father can be in attendance."

Dawson interrupted, nodding, "Rosa and I plan to be there."

Both Carlos and I were surprised, but pleased at the news. Carlos asked, "What if we come over Tuesday evening?"

"Tuesday is perfect. Come with an appetite. Rosa will be cooking and baking all day. And Carlos, you're welcome to sit in on our business meeting and watch your fiancée lead us through the agenda today. She's become quite the businesswoman."

I blushed at the high praise from Dawson. My boss and I had become quite close over the past six months and I respected him immensely. These two men standing in front of me had such a strong belief in my abilities that it scared me sometimes. I would do anything not to disappoint either of them. I blushed again under Carlos' intense stare.

"If I won't be in the way, I'd enjoy observing," Carlos replied, looking proudly at me. More blushing on my part.

Dawson explained, "Today, we'll be making some last minute decisions on the Mother's Day campaign and refine our plans to meet the demands of our new Asian market."

"Sounds interesting," Carlos said. "Who is usually present at these meetings?"

Dawson explained, "All our department heads and anyone who's instrumental to the projects we'll be discussing. It's flexible. I've learned to ignore corporate structure in favor of creativity and professional growth of our employees. When people are involved in a project from the very beginning and have a say in it, they take ownership and work even harder to ensure its success."

"I like that philosophy, Dawson. I come from a military background where structure and chain of command is everything, but I can see in many business environments where a more horizontal structure would be productive," Carlos responded.

"A lot of our meetings entail going over budgets, sales reports and manufacturing specifications. Won't you be bored?" I asked Carlos.

"Not at all. I'll enjoy seeing you in action." He kissed the tip of my nose. "Also, I plan on starting my own business soon, so I'll consider this a learning opportunity."

As we were leaving my office on our way to the conference room, Tina came flying through the door. "Sorry I'm late. I'll be there in a minute," she exclaimed, rushing to her desk, grabbing and dropping things as she raced around. "Carlos, it's great to see you up and around." He nodded to her, taken aback by her frenzied movements and harried appearance.

I picked up a folder she'd knocked to the floor. "Calm down, Tina. We still have a few minutes before the business meeting begins." I waved the men on so I could speak to my friend in private. "You're a mess! What happened?"

Tina looked like she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "Oh, Stevie… I don't know if I'm coming or going anymore. Lester and I spent all last week and this weekend together… a lot of it… well, most of it in bed. It was incredible, it was awesome… it was exhausting… and I loved every minute of it. Lester is amazing! How did I get so lucky?"

"Slow down, girlfriend. Sounds like you two enjoyed getting to know one another. So, what's got you in such a tizzy?"

"He's gone…." Tina wailed.

"Gone? What do you mean? Did you two break up?"

"No! Nothing like that," she waved her hand at me. It was then that I spotted the shiny golden ring on her left hand.

"Omigod! Omigod!" I exclaimed as I grabbed her hand so I could get a better look at the gorgeous stone. "When did _this_ happen?"

Tina's grin grew even wider. "Lester formally popped the question when he took me out to dinner last night!"

We both jumped up and down and squealed like little girls as I hugged her tightly.

"Okay, okay, you have two minutes to tell me _all_ about it," I demanded.

"Well," she took a deep breath and began, "Lester was at my apartment when I got home from visiting my grandmother. He gave me a dozen red roses and then he took me out to dinner to that little Italian place around the corner. Oh. My. God. We shared a huge plate of spaghetti and we sucked up noodles like the doggies in that Disney flick, "Lady and the Tramp," kissing in between bites of our food and all that. Then, while we were having dessert, my awesome, sexy, wonderful man got down on one knee, pulled out the sweetest little velvet box and asked me to be his wife. Stevie, it was sooooo romantic! I swear, I will love tiramisu for_ever._"

I held her left hand close to my face to examine the exquisite emerald-cut cognac diamond in a classy yellow gold setting. The large amber-colored diamond was flanked on either side by a smaller diamond in a diagonal square setting and five white baquette-cut diamonds were embedded around both sides of the gold band. I'd never seen such a beautiful gem in such an unusual color, and it complemented her warm caramel skin beautifully. Although I treasure my opal ring and all it signifies, I must admit I was feeling just a tiny bit of envy over Tina's beautiful engagement ring.

"Congratulations, Tina," I said as I pulled her in for another hug. "I'm so happy for you!" And I really meant it. I even had the tears in my eyes to prove it.

"Thanks, Stevie," Tina said. When she pulled away from me, she also had tears in her eyes. "I owe it all to you and Carlos. This would never have happened if you two hadn't met. This I know from the bottom of my heart. But now, Lester's been called back to work, back to D.C., for I don't know how long a time. We had a frantic love-making session this morning before he left. That's why I was late. I couldn't say goodbye. I couldn't bear to let him go, but…" Tina flung herself down in her chair and dramatically dropped her arms and head to her desk, sighing heavily as if in deep despair.

Tina had always been a bit of a drama queen, but I could certainly sympathize with her. "I know just how you feel. It's hard to watch them go, but they have very important jobs to do and a good soldier obeys without question. Get used to it." _Ha! Easy to say, impossible to do._

Tina sat up and vigorously shook her head. "Oh no! I am _not_ going to get used to it. Lester promised he'll be getting out of the Army soon. He's going to get a regular job where he can be home every night and he won't be sent away on long missions," Tina stated emphatically and then she got a dreamy look in her eyes. "Now that we're officially engaged, nothing is going to get in the way of our togetherness. My fiancé is so romantic! We talked a lot about our wedding and our lives afterward."

"How _are_ things going with your wedding plans?" I asked. "Did your mother finally back off on that monstrosity of a wedding dress she wanted you to wear?"

Tina nodded. "Omigod, that was almost a catastrophe! Can you imagine a twenty-foot train of beaded tulle and lace? I'd have to start lifting weights now just to be able to drag that frickin' dress down the aisle. Thank God my grandmother took my side; she likes things nice and simple."

"Speaking of nice and simple," I began, "we have business to tend to. Since Carlos will be sitting in on today's meeting, I'm gonna keep things nice and simple, so pull yourself together and get your exhausted ass down to the conference room." Tina stuck her tongue out at me, but she got up and followed me down the hall.

**TBC**


	46. Chapter 46 Chapter 130

**CHAPTER 130**

_Carlos' POV_

Pulling into the driveway of my parents' house today felt completely different than it did six months ago. Back then, I thought there was a good chance I would be seeing my family for the last time. I'd also known I would have a battle on my hands to get my father to sign my revised Will leaving my assets to Stephanie. I'd been willing to compromise to keep the peace to have one last stress-free night with Stephanie before I left on my mission.

But today, it was a different story entirely. When we walked through the front door, I'd be formally introducing Stephanie to my family as my fiancée, my partner for life, and that changed things for me. For all of us, really. Last week, I found out that Steph had set our wedding date for a year from June. We hadn't talked much about it, but now that I was home I wanted to marry my Wonder Woman as soon as possible. However, discussion of a new wedding date could wait for another time. Today was about celebrating new life!

I'd survived my last mission and I had Stephanie at my side. I'd probably still have a battle on my hands with my father, in spite of his recent apology. I had my own family to think about now and I knew I would no longer put up with any more shit from my father. I hoped it wouldn't come to that though.

This afternoon my family had gathered, along with Marco's family, at our church for the christening of Lena and Marco's baby boy, Carlos Tomás. Both families had shown up in force, eager to celebrate a precious new life. It was my first time meeting my brother-in-law's family, another second generation Cuban family who had made Newark home. Lena would be well treated in this warm loving family.

My father was his usual take charge self, greeting everyone as if the church was his personal property, and as if he was responsible for the reason we were there. However, he was very solicitous of Lena, making sure she and her baby were the center of attention, next to him of course. He beamed with pride when the first-time parents introduced Stephanie and me as my namesake's godparents. Lena and I had talked several days earlier and she had broached the subject then. After much discussion, Stephanie and I had accepted the honor, knowing it would bring us closer together and bring me closer to my family.

The baptism was a joyous occasion for both families and we were all in high spirits. This was the first family event I'd attended in more than half a year. It seemed most of our family gatherings of late had been marred by arguments, absence and unease. Today, everyone seemed eager to put the past behind and move forward. And the centuries-old ritual of a Catholic christening, especially this christening, did just that. Everyone was on their best behavior. For the first time in years I was glad to be a part of my family's traditions. And judging from my family's reactions, they were pleased to have me here, too. Holy water wasn't the only liquid that dripped down faces today. There were a lot of happy tears shed as I held my newborn nephew in my arms and pledged to guide him through life's challenges.

With Carlos Tomás nestled comfortably in the crook of my arm and Stephanie standing by my side, I got a glimpse into my future. I looked at my fiancée with a fresh perspective. She would be the mother of my children someday and that thought filled me with pride and pleasure. As different as Stephanie and I were, we shared the same values and had a similar upbringing, including being raised in New Jersey as a Catholic. Yes, it felt good to be part of a family.

After the christening, I'd taken Steph on a drive-by tour of my old neighborhood, showing her my old haunts where I'd gotten into so much trouble as a teenager. In a way, it felt like I was exposing myself to her, unwrapping the layers of my life that I'd kept hidden away for years. And Stephanie didn't disappoint. She enthusiastically embraced all aspects of my life, from my juvenile delinquency to my nosy, intrusive family.

Today's party at my parents' house was to welcome two new members into the family – Carlos Tomás and Stephanie. In some ways, we would really be welcoming three new members because this would be the first time Dawson Books would be setting foot in the family house and the first time my Abuela Rosa would return 'home' since the infamous family argument that occurred last December. By now, I had heard all the sordid details from my gossipy sisters.

I helped Stephanie out of the Porsche, offered her my arm for mutual support, and led her up the walk to the front porch. Although I was still limping a bit, I refused to use a cane anymore. My muscles needed the exercise to strengthen and heal properly. I had let Steph drive us to her office this morning, but now we were on my turf and, as much as she had interacted with my family over the last six months, Steph had never been to my parents' home.

As I gave the obligatory knock on the front door before entering, I wondered what to expect from my father. While I was in the hospital, he'd apologized for his past treatment of me, but we hadn't discussed it since then, and at the christening we both focused on Lena and the baby. I knew I could survive without my family, but I had to admit, now that I had Stephanie in my life I wanted to give her everything I could, and that included all the good times I remembered having at my large family gatherings, despite my father.

As soon as we stepped through the front door, we were swamped by a horde of noisy children, eager to welcome their uncle and soon-to-be aunt home. Before the first kid could glom onto my injured leg, Steph casually stepped in front of me and blocked them until I could make my way into the living room and give the excited children time to calm down a bit.

My entire family was crowded into my parents' modest house and the noise level was deafening, but it felt like… home. Both Stephanie and I made our way through the "hug line" and into my Mama's kitchen. This was definitely my mother's kitchen, not my professional chef father's kitchen. The smells wafting through the air made my stomach growl and Stephanie was practically drooling. Within seconds, Mama had thrust a warm empanada into each of our hands, raising cries of "Mama always liked you best" among my sisters. Mock insults flew along with a myriad of spontaneous hand gestures and I laughed watching Steph's eyes widen as she took in our family's wild dynamics.

We moved out to the large backyard where my father, brother and brothers-in-law were playing baseball with several of my older nieces and nephews. Papa took off his catcher's glove and approached us with arms opened wide.

"Welcome home, Carlos. And you too, my dear Estefánia. _Bienvenido a mi casa, mi future nuera…no… mi hija_. I am so happy to have both of you here, together, safe and sound." [_Welcome to my home, my future daughter-in-law… no… my daughter_.]

Alex and I exchanged shocked glances at our father's declaration that he would call Stephanie his daughter, instead of his daughter-in-law. It was a first for my traditional Cuban father. He had embraced all his children's spouses equally, but he'd always been adamant about maintaining proper titles and relationships. His willingness to relax our family's long-established social structure was evidence of his changing mindset.

It also felt strange for my father to initiate a hug with me. He was careful of my injuries, but he still managed a heartfelt embrace that lasted several seconds and then he turned away quickly, wiping at his eyes. A quick glance at Stephanie revealed tears in her eyes too, while Alex's eyes were so big I thought they'd pop out of his head. My father's softened attitude certainly seemed genuine, and unexpected by all of us who knew him.

Then his phone rang, gratefully interrupting the mushy moment. "Hello, Ricardo Mañoso speaking," he answered. He listened for a moment and then looked at Steph and me, and then at Alex. "I am sorry, Mrs. Algarve, but this is the day I spend with my family and today we are celebrating my son's return from war and his engagement to his beautiful novia." Pause. "Yes, I know you have questions about the catering menu, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I will call you first thing in the morning." There was another pause and then, "Yes, I understand it is important, but nothing can be done until tomorrow. Good afternoon, Mrs. Algarve." And then he hung up, leaving Alex and I with our mouths open. My father had indeed changed if he was putting family before business.

To break the tension, Alex drew Stephanie into a batting competition with the older kids. I sat on the sidelines with Papa and cheered everyone on, grateful to sit for a while and ease the strain on my leg.

"Have you and Estefánia finally enjoyed having some time together?" my father asked, keeping his eyes on the baseball action happening in the yard.

"Yes. This past week has been wonderful," I replied, watching Steph score a hit. I wasn't about to share any details of my private time with Stephanie, especially not with my father.

And in typical Papa fashion, he exclaimed, "I had my hands full keeping your mother and sisters from constantly calling you, trying to see you. They are very happy to have you back." Papa then yelled out some advice to one of his grandsons who kept dropping the ball.

_Yeah, Papa. You did a great job. We only got a million calls._ "We appreciate that the family gave us some time alone."

Still keeping his focus on the game in front of us, he asked, "How are you feeling? You suffered some serious injuries, mijo."

"I'm fine, Papa. I just need a few more days until I'm back to full strength." Plus a few weeks of physical therapy.

"Being a soldier is a dangerous career," he started, "we almost lost you…"

_What was up with my father?_ He wasn't one to make small talk with me, his wayward son. I shot a sideways glance at my father and I could see by the look on his face he was going to start in on me again.

"Carlos, I wanted to say…" Papa started, but I interrupted. I didn't think I could take any more of his recriminations or even his emotional venting. It was time he heard some of my venting.

"Papa, stop. I don't want to hear it," I said, trying to keep an even tone, but not succeeding. "What I want… is for you to respect me and my choices. It's my life, not yours. You may not have liked the choices you made regarding your life, but that doesn't give you the right to make decisions for me."

My father opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand. I wasn't done yet.

"I spent years letting you demean me and put me down in front of others. You tried to do that again the night I brought Stephanie to _Rosa's_," I uttered, my voice dropping low and dangerous. "If you _ever_ do that again, know that it will be the _last_ straw. I won't tolerate your insults or disrespectful attitude any longer."

I paused for a minute and my father stared at me, not breathing, not moving. I continued, "I'm an adult capable of making my own decisions and my own way in life, and I expect you to accept it. _End of discussion_." I paused again, letting my words sink in. "If you can't or won't accept it, then we're through. I won't subject myself or Stephanie to your contemptuous antics again. Do I make myself clear?"

Papa's eyes were huge and he had a stunned look on his face, but he found his voice, "I deserved that. And you're right, Carlos. Everything you say is correct. I admire you for standing up for yourself. I wish I had done that with my father." He took a deep breath and looked straight at me. "I will not try to convince you to come to work at _Rosa's_ anymore. And I will not speak against you or your decisions. You deserve my respect, not my criticism. As I told you before, mijo, I have learned a lot in the last few months and one of those lessons was humility. I know I have made mistakes with you and I regret them."

He was about to say more, but stopped when a commotion broke out in the house. He stood up, straightened his shirt and smoothed his hair. Papa was nervous. Abuela Rosa and Dawson Books had arrived. The kids swept by us, eager to greet their great-grandmother and great-grandfather. I gathered Stephanie to my side and entered the kitchen, followed by the rest of the men.

The kitchen was nearly deserted as everyone had gathered in the living room. There was much talking and laughter as the family welcomed their matriarch and her husband to the Mañoso home. By the time Steph and I made our way to the front room, my grandmother was holding court, seated in her straight-backed chair with Dawson standing behind her. The little ones were seated on the floor in front of my grandmother and the older kids and adults filled in every available space in the room. The instant Abuela Rosa saw me though, she stood and held out her arms. That was my cue.

Even though it hurt a bit, I gathered up my Abuelita and let her feet dangle as I hugged her. I expected her to chastise me and insist I set her down, but she simply clung to me. The room quieted and still we embraced, though I did let her feet touch the floor. She finally released me and held me at arm's length, looking me up and down. After one more hug and a softly murmured "Mi Carlito," she stepped back and stood next to her husband. I shook hands with Dawson and then my father stepped forward.

"Mama, I am so happy to have you home again, if only for the evening. And Mr. Books, Dawson… welcome to our home," Papa said in Spanish and then he extended his hand. I could feel all the adults in the room wait with bated breath for Abuela Rosa and Dawson's responses. I leaned down and whispered the translation in Stephanie's ear.

Dawson leaned forward and clasped my father's hand firmly. "Thank you, Ricardo. I'm glad to be here. You have a lovely home," he replied in Spanish, "and an even lovelier family." He smiled warmly as he made eye contact with each person in the crowded room.

My grandmother reached up and kissed my father on his cheek, saying, "It is time we put all this nonsense behind us, mijo." The stress level in the room dropped dramatically. She smiled and rubbed a bit of lipstick off his cheek before turning to greet my mother. "I am starving and the delicious smells are making me salivate. Is dinner ready, Teresa?"

Mama smiled, "Yes, we were just waiting for you to join us, Mama Rosa." She gathered up several of the older granddaughters and requested, "Girls, please bring the food and drink in from the kitchen."

Abuela Rosa turned to me and said, "You are much too thin, Carlito. Haven't you been eating your novia's cooking?" Before I could respond, she greeted Stephanie with a warm embrace and queried her, "Have you been making Carlos his favorite Cuban meals?" I translated for Steph and then did the same for my grandmother when Steph replied, though I had my suspicions Abuela Rosa could understand Steph perfectly.

Steph nodded and answered, "I have, but Carlos has this health kick thing where he eats mainly salads and vegetables and lean meats. He did eat my Vieja Ropa, but only one helping. I tried to make him a muffaletta sandwich, but he insisted on a sprout and avocado sandwich." Gasps rounded the room because a good Cuban boy would always choose a tasty muffaletta over anything else.

Abuela Rosa put her arm through mine as she led the way to the dining room. Dawson escorted Stephanie right behind us. "Tonight, my dear Carlito, you will eat well and you will eat everything I put on your plate. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Abuela Rosa. I am hungry too, and can't wait to chow down on all my favorite dishes. I've missed your cooking," I said and sought out my mother, "and yours, Mama. There's none finer." Papa and Alex grumbled loudly until Celia smacked them both and everyone laughed. In the Mañoso family, there was always good-natured rivalry between the men and the women regarding which gender made the best Cuban food. At home the women always won, and at _Rosa's_, the men claimed victory. The adults all trooped into the dining room, while the children raced to the kitchen where they would eat, supervised by the teenagers. It would be a large dining room indeed that could hold the entire extended Mañoso clan.

Dinner was excellent, as usual. There was lots of chaos and noise and laughter – all in Spanish, of course. I tried to translate as much as I could for Steph, but there were so many different conversations going on it was hard to keep up. Alex was sitting on the other side of Stephanie and he helped with the English translations too, which made it easier for all of us. Once Stephanie got used to speaking with an interpreter, she fell into an easy rhythm with my family. I could tell my sisters adored her and she already had all the kids clamoring for her attention. I'd seen how she had my father wrapped around her little finger, but I was surprised to see my own brother under her spell, too.

_Why had I __been so worried about Steph meeting my family? Would they have been as accepting of her if I had brought her home that first weekend? Or did we all need to go through the past six months exactly as we did to have it all turn out so nicely? I guess we'll never know. I was just thankful for this pleasant family get together that seemed to have very little drama for once._

Later that evening, after my siblings and their spouses had rounded up the kids and left and Dawson had escorted my grandmother out to their car, Papa and I adjourned to the back porch to smoke cigars. Steph was helping my mother put away all the freshly washed dishes.

Papa took a deep puff on his cigar and started, "This was a very nice evening. It is hard to think that just two weeks ago, you were in a coma and we all thought we might lose you." We sat on a comfortable bench that faced out on the expanse of lawn. Neither of us had to make eye contact, which made talking with my father easier.

"That's in the past. Let's not speak of it again. I'd prefer to focus on the future."

"There are still some things about the past that need to be said. Carlos, I meant what I said to you that last day in the hospital."

He shifted on the bench, his nervousness showing in the way he kept clenching and unclenching his hands. "I know you said you did not want to hear my apology, but I need to say the words. They are part of my 'making amends'. I am sorry, mijo. I am sorry I have been so hard on you, that I have showed you so little respect. You did nothing to deserve it. I have been stuck in my Old World way of thinking and it has taken quite a bit to unstick me and push me into the present. While you were still in the hospital, I… I spent some time with your Army friends. They speak very highly of you. I have come to understand a bit more of what you do and why you do it."

Papa turned to look at me, his face relaxed and sincere, not the tension-filled, tight look he usually presented to me. When he spoke again, there was pride in his voice, and respect. "You are a hero, a true American hero, and I am proud of you, mijo, if I am allowed to feel pride in my son's achievements. It is time to put the past behind us, if you will forgive this old man."

I wasn't expecting any of this. A myriad of thoughts flashed through my mind. Memories of my father yelling at me, berating me, shunning me. And, there were memories of me shouting at my father, rejecting him and his old-fashioned way of thinking. Both of us had hurt the other many, many times. But this was old stuff, old baggage. I'd seen with my own eyes the positive changes my father had made in the way he treated Mama and the rest of the family. And tonight, Abuela Rosa and her new husband had buried the hatchet, so to speak. Maybe it was time…

He put one hand on my shoulder and held out his other hand. It occurred to me this was a pivotal moment in my relationship with my father. If I shook his hand, I needed to put all the resentment and hurt behind me, once and for all. I looked into my father's face and saw the same vulnerability I'd seen when he apologized the first time.

I shook his hand.

**TBC**


	47. Chapter 47 Chapter 131

**CHAPTER 131**

_Stephanie's POV_

"Daddy, are you sure about this?" I glanced up from my toasted bagel smeared with cream cheese.

The previous night, after I told my father all about the excitement of baby Carlos Tomas' christening and of my being welcomed into Carlos' large family, we discussed the issue of introducing Carlos to the rest of the Plum family as soon as possible. I figured that once my mother got a good look at Carlos in the flesh, she'd _have_ to back off on her misguided attempts at putting me together with Joseph Morelli. We decided it would be best for me to invite everyone over to my place for dinner and hope for the best. So we made the phone calls and left messages for Mom, Valerie and Grandma Mazur to come to dinner on Friday night. Now, over breakfast, my father had just told me news that shook me to my core. My parents were separating.

"Yes, Pumpkin, I'm very sure," my father replied as he set down his coffee mug. "It's for the best. Your mother says Juniak makes her happy. He reminds her of … of her first love, Tamás, which sort of makes sense since those two were cousins. And, apparently, Juniak has had a crush on Ellen since they were kids, but he knew back then that she loved Tamás, so he didn't interfere. By the time Tamás died, Juniak was already married. When I moved out, Juniak thought he might finally have a chance. Turns out, he did. After everything that's happened with you and your sister, Ellen decided she wasn't gonna let _me_ do to _her_ what your exes did to you."

"So she's really having an affair with Joe Juniak?" I asked.

My father nodded slowly and said, "Ellen and I had a long talk after Juniak hired a lawyer for her. Now I've hired my own lawyer and we're movin' ahead with this."

I shook my head and said, "But I can't believe she's accusing _you_ of extreme cruelty. That's insane! If anyone's guilty of extreme cruelty, it's Mom. Honestly, Daddy, with all of her scheming about Joe Morelli and badgering Valerie to stay with Steve and moaning over my divorce from Dickie, anyone with half a brain can see that _she's_ the one at fault here. And that's not even counting the adultery! Grandma Mazur told me the entire Burg is buzzing with the news of Mom leaving you for Joe Juniak. It's so embarrassing!"

Dad sighed. "I'm not disagreein' with you, Stephanie, but by claimin' 'extreme cruelty' on my part, the divorce will go through much faster and that's what we all want. If we go for a 'no fault' divorce, then we'd have to be separated for eighteen months. That's a helluva long time. I promised myself I would _not_ be the one to file for this divorce, so it was always gonna depend on what your mother decided to do. Well, Ellen has made her choice. She and Juniak want to be able to get married sooner rather than later, and I'm fine with that. Really, I am."

"How can you say that?" I cried angrily. "This is all Mom's fault and _she_ should take the blame for it! I can't believe you didn't tell me about your decision before we made all those phone calls to invite everyone over to meet Carlos. If I had known…"

"No, Stephanie, don't be mad," Dad interrupted me and patted my hand. "If you had known about the separation, you wouldn't have been able to be civil towards your mother."

"You're damn skippy about that!" I grumbled.

He sighed again. "It's actually for the best. You know I've been talkin' with the parish priest for a while and there's nothin' left for me with your mother. But she's still your mother and I don't want you or your sister to disrespect her in any way. I'm no saint, and God knows she's put up with a lot through the years."

"But, Daddy-" I whined.

"Listen to me," Dad said sternly. "You and Valerie are grown, the house has been paid off for years, and we each have our own cars, which are also paid off. Accordin' to my lawyer, I'll probably end up payin' a little bit of alimony to your mother for a few months, but then that's it. There's nothin' more either of us wants to do to save our marriage. It's over."

"But what about your good standing in the eyes of the Catholic Church?" I asked. "I _know_ that's important to Mom."

"Apparently, that's no longer true," Dad replied with a shrug. "For all her rantin' and ravin' about keepin' vows and the tragedy of your divorce and Val's, your mother seems to have decided that it's all okay now that it's her turn. Listen, I never lived up to what your mother thought was my full potential. I was happy enough to do my job at the Post Office, but I was never gonna try to become the Postmaster General or go for some such other high falutin' position. I like livin' a low-key life, but your mother always wanted more. I think she's been tryin' to live her life through you girls, but that just hasn't worked out the way she hoped, either. Joe Juniak is an important man. He's got three very successful sons. He … he makes your mother … happy, and for that, I guess I'm grateful."

"What a mess! I can't believe you're being so forgiving about all of this," I moaned. "And you make it sound as if Mom thinks Val and I are total losers."

"I'm sorry, Stephanie," Dad replied. "I know she loves you both in her own way, but she's always had such high hopes for you and Valerie."

Anger flared up in me and I nearly growled, "Doesn't she realize the way my new business has taken the fashion world by storm?"

"She can't see it," Dad said, shaking his head in defeat. "In fact, she appears to be mostly embarrassed by the fact that you design underwear nowadays."

"Cripes! It's very classy, high-end lingerie – not just underwear!" I protested.

My dad tried to placate me by saying, "I know that, Pumpkin. I'm just sayin' that your mother still thinks of it all as, ah … well, ladies' unmentionables. It's a shame, but that's just the way it is right now. She'll come around … eventually."

"Just like you said she'd come around to seeing my divorce from Dickie was for the best, right?" I scoffed. "She never has accepted that the marriage was a mistake from the beginning. And it's not like you and Mom had the same kind of a farce of a marriage I had with Dickie. I was glad to be able to get an annulment, especially because Carlos' family is so devout. But you and Mom _can't_ get an annulment, not after thirty years and two grown children and grandchildren and all. What will you do about the Holy Sacraments? What about taking communion at my wedding?"

"Jeez Louise!" Dad exclaimed. "All those marriage preparation sessions you've been havin' with Father Brady have really taken hold of you, haven't they?"

I blushed and looked down at the floor. He was right and he knew it. Truthfully, Father Brady was the first priest I'd ever gotten to know as a person. The friendly priest had even visited Carlos and me a few times since he came home from the hospital. While the observant man-of-the-cloth didn't remark on the fact that we obviously were sharing a bed, he did decide it would be best for us to finish up the recommended premarital counseling sessions during Carlos' convalescence. Besides, we were practically a captive audience whenever he visited us.

My father smiled and gently patted my shoulder. "It's not like that religious stuff ever really mattered to me, you know. Church was always your mother's thing. Your grandmother's, too. In fact, I think I've been to Mass with you more often in the past few months than I have in the past thirty years. Besides, it's not like the olden days, sweetheart; we're not gonna be excommunicated, if that's what you're worried about. Trust me; there's all kinds of divorced and remarried and shacked-up people sittin' in the pews every Sunday. As long as we're puttin' something in the collection plate, I'm sure the Pope won't give a damn about a few messed-up Catholics over here in Jersey. But I promise you, Stephanie; I won't embarrass you on your wedding day."

I grasped my father's hand and said, "No, Daddy, that's not what I meant at all. I just was wondering. Actually, you know I've never been much of a church-goer before now, either, but ever since I met Rosa in the chapel when we both were praying for Carlos' safety, I've been attending services more regularly. It just didn't feel right for me to be asking God for his help all the time if I wasn't at least putting in an effort to be a better Catholic than I'd ever been before now. And I really do like Father Brady. He's been great with Carlos' father and everything."

"I understand. I like him, too." My dad shook his head and looked at me with a rueful grin on his face. "You know, your mother and I will reestablish ourselves in different parishes. We'll both need to get away from people who've known us all our lives. Once the divorce is final and your mother marries Juniak, I'm sure she'll go to church in Hamilton Township, or wherever it is that his family attends nowadays. And since I'll be movin' up here to Newark permanently, I thought I might just keep on goin' to the same church as you and the rest of the Mañoso family. That is, if it's okay with you and Carlos."

I glanced up at the ceiling, toward the rooms Carlos and I now shared, at least for the next several weeks until he had to report back to duty in North Carolina. My Superman was on one month's medical convalescence leave from the Army and then he'd have another two months of regular leave. _Woo hoo!_ It was great to be able to climb into bed with him every night, even though I still had to be very careful with his various wounds. After much cajoling and yes, even a little strategic whining, I had convinced Carlos to stay in bed this morning until after my father headed out on his taxi route. I planned to take him a breakfast tray and make sure he took his pain medication before I put a smile on his face and then I would go to work for a few hours.

"I'm sure it won't matter to Carlos," I said. "Now that he's an official godfather to his little nephew, there's a little bit of pressure on him to be more devout, but I think the only reason he's ever stepped inside of a church in recent years is to please his grandmother."

Dad chuckled. "That sounds familiar. Kinda like you with Edna. And kinda like me with my Nonna, when she was still alive. God rest her soul. It's a shame you girls never got to meet her. Of course, if my grandmother had still been alive when I was courtin' Ellen, well … let's just say things wouldn't have gone very well. In fact, you and your sister probably wouldn't even exist, because Nonna never would've allowed me to marry Ellen."

"Why not?" I asked, clearing my dishes from the countertop and stirring the oatmeal I had made for Carlos.

"First of all, my grandmother came directly from the old country," my dad replied as he put his dishes into the dishwasher, too. "She spoke only in Italian and she was fiercely protective of all of us. Only another proper Italian would have been approved for marriage into our family. She was a lot like Angela Morelli's mother-in-law, Old Grandma Bella. Always puttin' curses on everybody who dared to go against her wishes."

"Omigod! That's it!" I exclaimed. "Grandma Bella! If we can get to _her_ and make her declare that I'm not really _'good enough' _for her grandson, Joseph, then maybe he'll leave me the hell alone once and for all. I mean, even Mom can't argue with the truth. I'm _not_ a full-blooded Italian, right?"

Dad's grin lit up his face as he nodded his agreement, "_Riiiight_. I shoulda thought of that earlier, Pumpkin. If Grandma Bella is against you, then there's nothin' Ellen or Angie or even Joe Morelli can do to change her mind. I'll get right on that this afternoon. Today, I'm gonna take a look at a few furnished apartments nearby that are supposed to be ready for immediate occupancy."

"Oh, Daddy, you don't have to go anywhere," I whined. "There's plenty of space here."

My father shook his head. "No, Stephanie. You and your man need your privacy and I've overstayed my welcome. Besides, I need my own space, too."

"What about Blackie? He's gonna miss you terribly!" I continued to whine. As if he knew what we were talking about, my little dog began to whine, too.

"Don't worry, I won't go far. There's one apartment complex I plan to look at that's just a half-mile down the road," Dad said. "Tell you what; I'll drop by a coupla times a week. Maybe I'll even let you convince me to have dinner with you, too. I'm glad you and Carlos are goin' to his grandmother's house tonight and I'm sure it's just the beginnin' of a lotta nights out, what with all the family he's got. But really, Pumpkin, it's time for me to start learnin' how to be on my own now that your mother had decided what she wants to do. So, no complainin', ya hear?"

I made a few whiny sounds, but I knew Dad was right. I hugged him and he hugged me tighter before he released me and left to go to work. Neither of us acknowledged the tears that brightened our eyes.

Sighing, I finished preparing Carlos' breakfast tray and trudged up the stairs to awaken him. Blackie followed at my heels, but my smart little puppy didn't beg for any of the ultra-healthy items he knew I was carrying. While Blackie and I both longed for a bacon-and-egg breakfast, it just wasn't worth the hassle of hearing another one of Carlos' lectures on the unhealthy salt and fat content of many of my food choices. If the man wanted fruit and oatmeal, then the man was gonna get fruit and oatmeal. I'd just hit the drive-thru at the McDonald's on my way to work.

Not surprisingly, Carlos was already awake when I used my hip to push open the door to our bedroom. He was working on some programs on a laptop computer his sister, Pilar, had given him. Apparently, she had discovered a few of Carlos' young nephews playing some violent video games on the laptop and she knew Carlos could program stronger safeguards into them. It warmed my heart to know that my rugged Superman was concerned about the potentially negative impact of violence in video games and that he was willing to do something about it.

"Hi," I said as I crossed over to the bed. "Are you ready for a little breakfast? I made you some oatmeal – plain, no sugar, as requested. And I brought you lots of healthy fresh fruit to go along with it. Yep, this beats donuts and bacon any day. Yum!"

Carlos lifted an eyebrow and smirked at me. He knew I was being sarcastic. Although he accepted the tray, he set it on my side of the bed instead of over his lap. Then he grabbed the belt of my robe and tugged hard enough to pull me flush against the edge of the mattress.

"Thank you for the healthy breakfast, Querida," he said as he untied my robe and slid his hands around my waist. "But that's not exactly what I had in mind at this precise moment." When he nuzzled his face against my belly, I had a good idea of what was on his mind. Of course, that's what was on my mind, too, so I made him an offer I knew he wouldn't refuse.

"I really need to take a shower," I murmured. "You wanna come, too?"

Needless to say, he did.

_Carlos' POV_

I was having a very good day. The morning had begun with a bang – both literally and figuratively. When I woke up, Stephanie asked me to stay in bed until after her father left to go to work. No problem. I did some work for a while and then my Babe brought up my breakfast. She looked good enough to eat, so I postponed the actual meal in favor of a shower with Steph which, of course, led to the literal "bang." The figurative "bang" came from one of my very own computer games.

In an effort to help me stay put during my convalescence, Stephanie had given me a lap desk, on which I had been using my laptop computer to work on my business plans. Mateo kept sending me e-mails with updated legal documents for me to go over, and the previous day, after the christening party, Pilar had given me a laptop to "fix." Apparently, her son Eduardo had gained access to one of his cousin, Tomas' violent computer games and she wanted me to make it more difficult, if not impossible, for the boy to continue playing it. This was what I'd been working on when Steph brought up my breakfast. After my Babe sashayed her pretty little ass off to work, I quickly ate the breakfast she had prepared for me. Although she had wanted me to take my daily dose of pain medication, I'd distracted her enough to forget to remind me to take it before she left. Feeling invigorated, I returned to the project that had held my full attention prior to my delicious shower.

When I took a look at the game Pilar's son had been playing, _The Hunted_, my heart both sank and swelled with pride. This was the game, the third one I had created, that had been released while I was deployed. I knew it was rated "T" for Teens and above, but Eduardo was only nine years old. And this was the same nephew who'd been caught playing my other creations, _Search and Destroy_ and _War Games_, during the family party I had attended before I left for Operation Eagle Strike. Boys will be boys, so I fixed the laptop by installing a very strong filtering and monitoring program on it. Now, young Eduardo would only be able to play the games his parents approved for him.

I decided it was time to get up off my lazy ass and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood. Since I was already wearing a t-shirt and joggers, all I needed to do was pull on some socks and my running shoes. Blackie sensed an upcoming walk and he followed me through the bedroom door and into the hallway. I slowly walked down the staircase, with the little dog racing up and down the stairs in his excitement, and into the foyer, but before we reached the front door the house telephone rang.

I was going to ignore it, but when the answering machine clicked on I heard the caller's voice on the machine and recognized it right away. I hurried into the home office, reached for the handset and the unmistakable voice of Lester Santos barked greetings into my ear.

"Hey, Superman, how's it going? Is everything all right?" Santos asked after he realized he was actually talking to me and not a machine.

"I can't complain," I replied. "Everything is healing up nicely. In fact, I was just getting ready to walk Stephanie's dog. And I'm scheduled to begin physical therapy next week, but I've already been cleared for most normal activities."

Santos snorted and said, "I'll bet your lady love was glad about that."

Ignoring his blatant innuendo, I said, "I saw _your_ lady love yesterday when I went in with Stephanie to visit her office. I thought you and Tank were supposed to be closing down the D.C. office and heading back to Fort Bragg _next_ week. How the hell did General Rousche get you back in his clutches so soon?"

Lester explained, "Originally, General Striker had convinced General Rousche to give me a two-week leave of absence. All in the name of true love. Turns out, General Striker is a real romantic guy and he thought I deserved the chance to get the ball rolling with the love of my life sooner rather than later, so there I was. Who knew the Feds were going to close the case so quickly?"

"Ah," I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Let me guess: as soon as the final report landed on General Rousche's desk, he declared Operation Eagle Talon a success and decided to close everything down."

"Yeah, you guessed it right," Lester admitted. "Being back in D.C. on such short notice really sucks, but Tank and I are heading south tomorrow, so it's all good. The sooner I get to Bragg, the sooner I can out-process and get the hell back up there to Tina."

I shook my head at the Army's ways. "Say, how did you get this number? Steph told me it was unlisted."

"Tina gave it to me," he replied. "There were a few things I wanted to tell you before I left, but I ran out of time when I got the call to get my ass back to D.C., and I had already asked Tina if she knew this number, anyway. I'm on a land-line, too, because I wanted to send you some photos on your cell phone while I was talking to you."

"Photos of what?" I asked.

Santos exclaimed, "I got engaged last night!"

"Say again?"

"I said I got engaged last night," he repeated. "To Tina. Tina Luisa Arabella Minardo – the most beautiful girl in the world!"

"I beg to differ," I scoffed.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "You've got _your_ most beautiful girl in the world and I've got mine. We'll just have to agree to disagree." Then he paused and I heard a rustling noise on his end of the phone line. "I gotta show you the engagement ring. I designed it myself. Well, my father helped, of course. As soon as I got Tina's old man's blessing, I went straight over to the jewelry store and started looking at stones. Here, take a look."

My cell phone buzzed to indicate an incoming message. I opened the display and gazed at the image on the small screen. Of course, I had already seen the real ring, up close and personal, on Tina's hand the previous day, but I let Santos have his fun.

"Nice," was all I could say about the photo of a gold ring with an emerald-cut, cognac-colored diamond in a gold band with more white diamonds, before another message arrived.

"The second picture is the wedding band I designed for myself, and the third shot is the one of me and Tina at the restaurant, after I proposed," Santos beamed as he explained the photo of a thick gold wedding band with one round cognac and two round white diamonds imbedded in it and then one of him and his now-official fiancée smiling for the camera. "We went back to her place after that and made love 'til the sun came up. It was awesome!"

"Congratulations, Santos," I said. "I'm happy for you and your new bride-to-be. Those are some nice rings, too."

"Thanks," he replied. "Oh, yeah, speaking of rings; that was the second thing I called to tell you. _Your_ rings are ready. Damn, Superman! You put the rest of us mere mortals to shame. By the way, my mother thanks you from the bottom of her heart, because your purchases just funded my parents' fortieth wedding anniversary celebration, complete with a renewal of vows, a full reception, and a second honeymoon trip to Europe. I don't know where my father got so many blue diamonds so quickly, but he really came through for you, man. I was supposed to let you know yesterday, but everything got crazy and well, I didn't get around to telling you until today. Sorry about that."

I chuckled and said, "No problem. I'll call your father's shop right now and arrange for a pick-up."

Santos sounded relieved that I wasn't upset with him when he sighed and said, "Cool. I was hoping you'd understand. But, wait! You can't hang up yet; I got more stuff to tell you."

"Well, hurry up, Santos," I urged, now impatient to get on with my day. By now, Blackie was practically frantic to go for his walk. "I've got places to go and things to do."

"Okay, okay," Lester said with more excitement in his voice. "Remember that agent you spared, way back at the beginning of the original mission? Well, he's recuperating at his family's home – kinda like you, actually – and his father came to town to personally thank you."

"What the hell?" I exclaimed.

Lester laughed. "You heard me; the guy came all the way to D.C. – actually, he had other business down here, too – to thank the man who spared his son's life. That's _you_. Only you aren't here, and we don't just give out personal info like that, anyway. Our boss checked out the guy to make sure he was legit and then he told him that we'd have to contact you first. So now I'm giving you the man's contact info and you can decide if you want to call him or not. He actually lives north of NYC and he said he'd be heading back home tomorrow, so you might just catch him as he's passing through Jersey. You ready to copy?"

"Go ahead," I said and I wrote down all the information Santos gave me. I was still shaking my head in wonder when I realized Santos had moved on to another topic of discussion.

"The wedding's only two months from now," Lester rambled on, "We decided not to wait. Life's too short, you know. And Tina's great-aunt was able to get us a church opening, so the family's happy. Tank's already agreed to be my best man and Bobby's gonna be one of the groomsmen. Tina said Stephanie Plum is gonna be one of the bridesmaids, so I was thinking that maybe you could be one of my groomsmen, too. How 'bout it; Superman; will you be one of my groomsmen?"

I was speechless for a moment before I agreed. "Sure, Santos. I'd be honored."

"Thanks," he sighed with audible relief. "That's two down and six to go. I got a lot more calls to make."

"You're having _eight_ groomsmen?" I exclaimed in disbelief.

He groaned and continued, "Yeah. Tina's calling this her big, fat Italian wedding. Like I said, she's got the church reserved and practically everything planned out already. I don't know how she did it so fast. My sister's wedding took almost a year and a half to put together. Tina's also got cousins out the wazoo, and they're all angling to be in the wedding party, but she's holding the line at eight attendants. Her mother is trying to convince her to hold a frickin' lottery, so there won't be any hard feelings."

"Good luck with that," I smirked, remembering the anguished phone calls from my mother when Lena couldn't decide which of our relatives to have in her wedding party.

"Damn! Listen to me!" Santos let out a string of profanity before continuing, "I can't believe I'm talking to you about all this wedding crap! And over the phone, no less. I'm doomed!"

I laughed aloud. "It's alright, man. Women will make you do and say crazy crap. I should know; I was just talking to my cousin the other day about these stupid girly throw pillows Stephanie put all over the place. It's enough to drive a man insane. I've started to hide the damn things every chance I get."

This reassured Santos. "Tina had some sissy crap on her bed, too, but I tossed that mess into the corner of her room before we got down to business. Seriously! Yeah, I guess I've still got my 'man card.' Once a Ranger, always a Ranger. Right?"

"Hooah!" I replied reassuringly.

"Speaking of Rangers," Lester began, "I know of at least four other men from our old unit in the Ranger Battalion who are interested in moving here to Jersey to be a part of your new company."

"Good to know," I said, glancing at my watch. "Mateo is supposed to bring over some paperwork for me to sign tomorrow. He even hinted that he might've found us a building. Maybe I'll have good news by the time you get back up here."

Santos chuckled, "With all of us old Rangers around, Jersey won't know what hit it."

Something about Santos and his string of comments about men and Rangers struck a chord with me. I knew a lot of former soldiers did a variety of security work, both regular and freelance, but I would need to give my future employees something solid to do, some sort of mission, long before the company's office building would be ready. A thought began to tickle at the edges of my mind, but it wasn't clear just yet.

"Look, I gotta go now," Santos said. "I just wanted to let you know what's up with me, as well as tell you about your rings being ready and about the guy who wants to thank you. Tank and I will be back in Jersey as soon as possible. Now that this extra mission is done, the Army's finally allowing us to out-process. We'll be ready to go to work for you before you know it. And we'll keep our eyes and ears open for other Ranger-types who might also need civilian employment in the near future."

"_Ranger-types… Rangers…_" My mind was buzzing with new ideas and in a flash, one popped out at me. "Hey, Santos, what do you think about the name 'RangeMan' for my new company?" I asked.

"Hmm… 'RangeMan,' huh?" Santos seemed to mull it over in his mind for a moment before he replied, "I like it! I mean, there are so many of us Rangers ready to sign on. And you'll be the top Ranger. Hey! Maybe that can be your new nickname – just Ranger."

I shook my head, "I don't know. That's somewhat pretentious, don't you think? I mean, we _all_ earned our Ranger tabs."

"Yeah, but you're the boss, the face of _RangeMan_," Santos said with emphasis. "Besides, '_Superman_' might be considered a little pretentious, too. And since the majority of us who want to sign on with your new company happen to be Latino, you might need to 'camouflage' things a little, so people won't think we're just a bunch of ex-gang-bangers."

"Hmm. I think I understand what you mean." And I did. Santos actually put into words something I knew deep down in my heart, but I really hadn't wanted to dwell upon the demographics of my potential workforce so far. Although I had friends of every color under the sun, my closest buddies tended to be either Latino or Black, and not all businesses would feel comfortable with such a minority-filled security firm. It was an issue I now planned to work on over the next few months.

Lester was still talking. "I can see myself all dressed in black, with a tight logo on my shirt. Maybe a design with a skull and a dagger. Yeah, that would be cool!"

"Uh, no skulls, no daggers," I said. "Our business will need to appeal to a wide variety of clients and that whole skull and dagger thing… well, it's great for SF, but for civilians, that might be a bit over-the-top."

"Yeah, I can see your point. Get it? See your _point_?" Lester quipped.

"Ha, ha, very funny," I said dryly. "Let me know when you and Tank arrive at Bragg. I may need you to do some things for me before you leave there," I said. "Thanks for all the info and congratulations again on your official engagement, Santos."

"Thanks," he replied. "You're next, you know. Later!" Then he disconnected the call.

A wild thought crossed my mind as I placed the phone's handset back into its cradle and I said to myself, "_I may be next, but things just might happen sooner than anyone around here thinks it will._"

. . .

"Hey there, Pumpkin, I'm back! Everything smells delicious!" I heard Frank's voice as he entered the kitchen. "Carlos, it's good to see you up and about, too." He said as he noticed my presence. I was sitting at the counter, chopping tomatoes and bell pepper while Steph was arranging the rolls on a baking sheet.

Even though my Babe had learned how to cook all sorts of Cuban dishes, she'd decided to impress her family by serving them a "traditional" meal of pot roast, hot rolls, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a tossed salad. Even though Stephanie and I were going over to my Abuela Rosa's home for dinner this evening, she came home early from work to make a "practice meal" for her father to ensure it would go well on Friday. After she took the roast out of the oven, she actually put me in charge of mashing the boiled potatoes and making the salad, which was sort of fun.

Frank informed us he had signed a lease on a near-by apartment. He planned to move there at the beginning of May, which was only one week away. We both congratulated Frank, but Steph avoided her father's eyes by focusing on the rolls in the oven. She waited until the timer went off, then she pulled out the pan of picture-perfect rolls and placed it on a cooling rack. Without turning toward either of us, my Babe claimed it was time for her to get dressed for our evening out and she hurried out of the kitchen. I looked at Frank and shrugged.

"Don't worry about it," Frank said. "Stephanie hates to let people see her cry. She always has and probably always will. I knew she'd be at least a little upset when I told her about my new lease. She'll get over it."

I nodded slowly and decided to make my move now, while my Babe was out of the room for a while.

"Frank, I need to ask you something," I said as I dried my hands on a dishtowel. "It's important."

"Yeah?" He glanced over at me and said, "Go ahead."

Suddenly, my throat felt dry. "As you know, I'm totally in love with Stephanie and I, ah…I want to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage." Dios! I never thought I would be nervous about this.

Frank smiled at me and nodded. "Carlos, you're a classy man. Anyone with eyes can see that you and Stephanie are crazy about each other. And you're really good for my daughter, too. I appreciate the fact that, unlike her mother, you recognize Stephanie is a grown woman. As such, you two lovebirds don't need my permission to marry, but I'm grateful you asked. In my mind, you're already married and you certainly have my blessin' to make it official."

"Thank you, sir," I croaked and held out my hand.

Frank put down the bowl of mashed potatoes and shook my hand. Then he pulled me in tight for a manly thump on the back and said, "I couldn't be happier for the both of you and I'll be proud to call you 'son.' I already am."

**TBC**


	48. Chapter 48 Chapter 132

**CHAPTER 132**

_Carlos' POV_

Dinner at my Abuela Rosa's was fantastic. I was very impressed with the incredible home she and Dawson Books shared. When they showed me the framed sketch of the two of them that my father had drawn and the black and white photos Dawson had taken of my grandmother, I had difficulty speaking until I cleared my throat. Sometimes, it's difficult to realize that the woman who always seemed to be the mild-mannered matron of our boisterous family was in fact a vivacious and vibrant woman in love, totally devoted to her new husband and the path they now followed. I will be eternally grateful to Dawson for bringing such joy into my Abuela's life and I looked forward to sharing a similar kind of life and love with Stephanie.

It was fun trading translation duties with Dawson during our evening together. Obviously, he was quite accustomed to making sure Stephanie could communicate effectively with Abuela Rosa. Several times, both he and I spoke at the same time to let the women know what each other had just said. After a while, we all laughed at the situation. I still had my suspicions about my grandmother, but I knew I wouldn't obtain any proof of her being able to understand English with Dawson at her side. Despite the great food, wine and company, though, Stephanie and I didn't stay late into the night, especially since she and Dawson had more fashion industry interviews over the next two days.

The next day, I contacted the car rental service and arranged for the immediate delivery of a shiny new, 2009 black Porsche Cayenne Turbo to the townhouse. I was tired of being stuck in the house all day and I figured one two-seater car in the garage was enough. When it arrived, I just sat behind the steering wheel for a few moments, savoring the sense of freedom it gave me. Don't get me wrong; I didn't mind letting my Babe drive me around in her car, but now that I was medically cleared for more activity, I needed to take charge of my schedule. Besides, there were places I needed to go and things I needed to do and I didn't want Steph knowing about them just yet.

Mr. Santos, Lester's father, greeted me warmly when I entered his store. He ushered me into a back room and introduced me to several workers. Everyone was grinning at me as I opened all the velvet boxes and cases which held the various pieces of jewelry I had ordered before I left for my mission. Even I couldn't hold back a sharp intake of air when I saw the exquisite craftsmanship on display with each piece. The blue diamonds were a rich deep blue just like Stephanie's eyes, and each jewelry piece matched seamlessly with the other. The jewelers, all men, congratulated me on my taste in diamonds. I could hardly wait to see Stephanie's reaction to not only the rings, but also the matching earrings, pendant and bracelet. After I left the jewelry store, I called the contact information Santos had given me.

"Fergus Morgan speaking," said the deep, New York accented voice on the other end of the cell phone connection.

"Mr. Morgan, this is Captain Mañoso, U.S. Army," I began. "The office of my commander just informed me you wish to contact me. How may I help you?"

"Are you the soldier who spared my son, Curt's life?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, I am."

For a moment, there was silence.

"Mr. Morgan? Sir? Are you still there?" I asked.

His voice sounded choked up when he replied, "Yes, yes, I'm still on the line. I wasn't expecting … I'm just … I'm surprised you got back to me so soon."

Now it was my turn to hesitate for a moment before I asked, "Is he okay?"

"He is," Mr. Morgan replied shakily. "I … I'd like to say more, but it would be best if we could speak in person. What's your location?"

"What's yours?" I replied coolly.

"You know," he said with a sniffle. "I rarely answer the phone when I'm driving; I usually let the answering service get it. But a sandwich I ate earlier has been wreaking havoc with my innards since Delaware and I really had to pull in to one of the rest stops on the Jersey Turnpike."

"Which rest stop?" I asked.

"The one near Secaucus," he replied. "It's funny, because I never stop at these places. I live in Scarsdale, but my office is near here, over by the Port Authority offices. You'd think I could make it at least that far, but my system wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, if you know what I mean."

I smiled to myself and said, "Yes, sir. I think we've all had that kind of experience once or twice. If you'd still like to speak to me in person, please stay put. I can be there at your location in fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Wait a minute," he sounded startled. "Have you been following me? Did someone down in D.C. put you on my tail?"

"No sir. I just happen to live in this general vicinity."

"And you're willing to come out here and talk to me?" Mr. Morgan sounded incredulous. "Now? At a rest stop on the Turnpike?"

"Yes, sir."

"Unbelievable!" he barked a laugh. "Wait'll I tell my son; this is going to crack him up. It feels like I'm living _his_ spooky lifestyle right now."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' Mr. Morgan," I said. "What kind of vehicle are you driving?"

"A 2007 silver Toyota Corolla," he replied. Then he gave me his license tag information.

Since I had been driving during our entire conversation, I was already merging into the traffic on the Turnpike, I said, "I'm driving a 2009 black Porsche Cayenne. See you in ten." And I disconnected.

I didn't have a problem finding the silver car and its silver-haired driver. It was difficult not to startle him, though. When I tapped on the passenger side window, he jumped so high in his seat he bashed his legs on the steering column. We both winced, but he rolled down the window anyway. Fergus Morgan was an older version of his CIA agent son and they shared the same intense blue eyes.

"Captain Mañoso?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "But please call me Carlos."

He unlocked the door and I slid onto the soft gray leather seat and closed the door behind me. Then he held out his hand and said, "Fergus Morgan. Curt's father. I'm very pleased to meet you, Captain Mañoso – er, Carlos. My son holds you in the highest regard. And our entire family owes you a debt we can't even begin to repay."

I shook his hand and replied, "I was just doing my duty, sir. Nothing more, nothing less. You don't owe me anything."

"Captain, I mean no disrespect, but that's a bunch of patriotic nonsense!" he exclaimed. "My son told me that without your eagle eye and iron control, he would be a dead man. He knows it and you know it, so let's not kid ourselves here. I just want to thank you for sparing Curt's life. Even though he'd been beat all to hell, Curt knew that if he just held on a little while longer, our government would send in help and that help was you. Now I know I'm not allowed to give you money, but I _can_ give you a gift other than my undying gratitude."

"Sir, that's really not necessary," I protested.

"Are you married?" Mr. Morgan asked abruptly.

Taken aback, I asked, "Pardon me?"

"Do you have a wife? A sweetheart? Someone special in your life?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. "I have a fiancée. In fact, I just picked up her engagement ring this morning, right before I called you."

"Congratulations! This is getting better and better!" Mr. Morgan grinned at me. Then he asked, "When's the wedding?"

"It's a long story, but my fiancée has a church reserved for June 5th, 2010," I answered. "But I'm doing my best to move that date up. Honestly, if I had the marriage license in hand already, I'd get married tomorrow."

"Are you thinking about eloping?"

I shook my head. "I wish it was that simple, but no."

"Well, I can't help you with all that, but I _can_ help you with your honeymoon plans," he said. "Have you ever heard of Morgan/Poseidon Shipping?"

I shook my head. "No, sir."

"That's too bad. We're the fifteenth largest shipping company on the Atlantic Ocean," he replied. Then he leaned back in his seat and continued, "We deliver a fairly large share of European autos into the U.S. market every year – Mercedes, BMW, Porsche, Audi, Volkswagen, you name it – if it's from Germany, MPS handles the trans-Atlantic shipping."

I whistled appreciatively. "That's impressive. My fiancée drives a Porsche 911 and I just rented a Cayenne today."

Mr. Morgan grinned. "Nice vehicles. Chances are, they both came over on one of my ships. My wife, Christina, is originally from Greece. Her father and brother owned and operated the Poseidon Shipping Company in the Mediterranean and when they both died, she was the only heir remaining. We merged the two companies back in the nineties and my three daughters help me run it today. Curt's my only son, but, as you well know, he decided to follow a different path, at least for a little while. So, how would you like to go on an all-expenses-paid cruise for your honeymoon?"

"On a shipping vessel?" I nearly choked.

After he finished laughing, Mr. Morgan explained, "Oh, no! Not that. I also own a small cruise line, _MPS Elite_, with tours all over the Caribbean. My wife likes to get away from New York's winter weather from time to time, and after 9/11 she got tired of all the hassles of flying, so I bought three 90-passenger yachts about five years ago and they've been nice little moneymakers since then. You could choose to travel on the _Marie Christine_, the _Cassandra Leigh_ or the _Helena Rose_. They're named after my daughters."

Once again, I said, "Pardon me?"

"A cruise, son," he reiterated. "A Caribbean cruise for you and your bride. What the heck, you can take your entire wedding party, too, if you like! You just tell me when you'd like to go and I'll make all the arrangements. Like I said, since my wife doesn't like to fly, our cruises usually depart from New York, travel down the Eastern Seaboard, visit the Bahamas and then onward to several ports of call throughout the Caribbean. You and your friends won't have to pay for a thing. Not. One. Thing."

I was speechless. I'd had some vague ideas about taking my Babe on a cruise for our honeymoon, but I hadn't made any solid plans yet. Now that I had the rings in my possession, all I needed was a priest and a marriage license and we'd be on our way to the Caribbean islands in a heartbeat.

"Well?" Mr. Morgan asked expectantly. "Will you accept my offer?"

"Yes, sir," I replied and I grasped his outstretched hand to shake it. "Absolutely. It's very generous of you to offer, and…"

He shook his head and interrupted me, "It's barely anything. You don't understand, so let me explain things to you. Curt was almost lost to us, and I don't just mean on this last mission. When he first joined the Agency, he turned his back on the family business. We all knew his missions took him to far away, and mostly dangerous places. But I think … I think this last time nearly broke him – mind, body and spirit. Curt's a good agent and he's told me you had the power to choose between taking him out or pulling him back in. He said he wouldn't have blamed you if you had decided the other way, but we're sure glad you did what you did."

"Me, too, sir," I nodded solemnly. "Me, too."

"Well, even though Curt's been out on his own for a long time, my wife insisted he stay with us after the hospital released him," he explained. "It's taken several months, but he's almost back up to full strength again. I knew it would break his mother's heart when he had to go back out on missions again, but Curt surprised us last week with the announcement that he's leaving the Agency. Seems like he's hit it off quite well with one of the physical therapists at the rehabilitation center he's been going to and I think he's seriously considering settling down. He even asked me about coming aboard within the family business. You don't know what that means to me; I've been waiting my whole life to have my son working by my side!" Tears glistened in the man's eyes and he didn't try to hide his pride.

Suddenly, for reasons I knew too well, I also felt a little choked up. After I cleared my throat, I said, "Mr. Morgan, I am deeply honored by your generous offer. I don't think there will be any problem convincing my fiancée to take a honeymoon cruise aboard one of your yachts. As for our wedding party joining us, we'll have to see who can afford to take the time off from their jobs."

He nodded and handed me his business card. "Call me when you know your wedding date and the other information. I'll make all the arrangements and get back to you before you know it."

I took the business card and after examining it closely, I tucked it into my wallet. "Thank you, sir. I look forward to doing business with you in the future." We shook hands one more time before I exited his vehicle and headed back toward Newark.

Later that afternoon, Mateo paid me a visit at the townhouse. He brought over some important documents for me to sign and he gave me updates on a variety of projects.

"I like your new office," Mateo said as he glanced around. "It looks real... comfy." He picked up one of the girly throw pillows Stephanie had placed on every chair and sofa in the house and sniffed it. Then he winked at me.

"Shut up, Mat," I replied. He knew I'd had nothing to do with the décor, which we had already discussed at length. Stephanie told me about buying the townhouse with all of its staging in place, but she'd added her own personal touches, such as the pillows, here and there. Right now, she was in New York City, where several fashion industry reporters were interviewing her and Dawson. Frank was out, driving his cab, so Blackie and Rex and I had the place to ourselves. I could hear the "attack" hamster running on his wheel and my new little shadow lay curled up by my chair.

Mateo merely laughed and said, "When we were at the christening party, I noticed how much better you're looking these days. Stephanie must be treating you right. "

"She's the best thing that ever happened to me," I agreed. "I hate to think where I might be right now if we hadn't met."

"Me, too, Carlos. Me, too," Mateo said before he opened his briefcase and pulled out several file folders. "In fact, I don't even want to think about it. You're here now, you're mostly in one piece, and that's all that matters. Now, let's get to work. I have to be back at my office in two hours."

"Two hours?" Sitting up a little taller, I said, "I thought you were going to take the whole afternoon off so we could work on the plans for my next business venture. What happened?"

"The law firm is trying to prevent one of its major clients from going to jail," Mateo answered. "One of the partners requested my assistance on the case. How could I refuse? If all goes well, it could mean a promotion for me."

I nodded. "Well, thanks for coming over anyway. Are those the options you were telling me about?" And I waved my arm toward the folders he still held in his hand.

Mat nodded, riffled through the papers and asked, "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Bad news," I sighed.

"Okay. First of all, everything's on track with the business itself," Mat reassured me. "The licensing and various permits are all in place under the name of Mañoso Security Solutions, Incorporated."

"Scratch that," I said. "I was talking to Lester Santos yesterday and we came up with the name, RangeMan." Then I spelled it for him the way I wanted it to look.

"Whoa, that was quick," Mat replied. "I know you said you and your Army buddies plan on coming up with a different name, but I didn't expect you to make a decision so soon. Are you sure?"

I nodded.

"Okay, then. That'll be an easy change," Mat made some notes on his yellow legal pad and then he continued, "The real problem has been finding a suitable location for your company. I've been checking in with the different commercial real estate brokers around town for almost a year and nothing has come up. There really aren't any buildings currently available in Newark which are right for your purposes." He held up his hand to keep me from interrupting him. "Now, I know that's not what you wanted to hear, so I've also been expanding my search and I came up with a different idea."

"What kind of a different idea?" I asked warily.

Mat hesitated and then said, "I was talking to your buddy, Diego -"

"The guy who just got out of the army last month?" I interrupted.

"Yeah, that's the one. You know, he's actually _from_ Trenton," my cousin continued. "Only Diego's grandmother and one aunt and uncle lived up here in Newark. He told me he always stayed with his Tía Ella and her husband Louis to help them out, because they took care of his Abuela until she passed away a couple of months ago. Ever since Diego came home, he's been helping his aunt go through all of his grandma's belongings in preparation to sell the old house. That's why he's been hanging around Newark, even though the majority of his family lives down in Trenton. Besides, he's got a few younger brothers and sisters who still live at home with his parents and you _know_ how crowded that can be."

"Oh, yeah," I agreed. "That's why I've always stayed at hotels whenever I visit La Família." [_The Family]_

"And did you know that Diego has been taking night courses for a while to become an architect?" Mat asked. "He only needs one more year of college and a professional internship to finish his degree."

I shrugged and then nodded slowly as I began to remember a conversation from way back. Diego Rios had been the explosives and demolition expert on my first Special Operations team several years earlier. Although we shared close bonds with several other guys who were also "Jersey boys," Diego and I really hit it off after I found out he had completed a few semesters at Rutgers University before joining the Army, just like I had done. He'd told me his college funds had run out and he didn't want to incur a large amount of student loan debt, so he enlisted in the military to get the educational benefits. It was good to hear that Diego finally was making his dreams come true now.

When I first joined the Army, my commander told me he thought I had what it takes to become an officer and he encouraged me to complete my college degree by any means necessary so that I would be more competitive. Amazingly, through a combination of online and night courses, I actually managed to finish my bachelor's degree in computer technology in between missions, but very few people knew about it. After that, I was easily accepted into the Army's Officer Candidate School and I finished at the top of my class. When I was still at Rutgers, I took a business course, too, and I really liked it. Although I don't know when I'll find the time to do it, I hope to earn an MBA at some point in the future.

"Well, here's where it gets interesting," Mat continued excitedly. "Diego told me about a recently vacated office building on Haywood Street, near downtown Trenton. It used to house a mortgage company and a bank, but it got bought out by some other company and all the people were shuffled off to different locations. No other businesses have moved into the building, yet."

"Trenton!" I exclaimed. "Aw, hell no, Mateo! Trenton's a dump!"

"Yeah, well, Trenton is also the state capital," Mat replied matter-of-factly. "It's where the state government is located, including the courts and the State Prison. It's close to Philly, but it's also considered part of the New York City metropolitan area. There are a lot of opportunities for finding business clients there. Besides, _you_ told me it was okay to look in Trenton."

"Yeah, but that was when Stephanie still lived down there!" I protested. "And, Dios, the commute! Trenton might have been a good location _before_, but my Babe lives up here now and Newark is where her company headquarters is located. She just bought this great house and, as you can see, it's already become home for me. Besides, most of the guys who want to partner with me on this all have family in the Newark or New York City area. "

"I know all that, but hear me out," Mat implored. "Diego said this building in Trenton could become the perfect set-up for what you told me you wanted to make of your security company's headquarters. And after reviewing your business plan, it seems to me that you and your employees will be spending a lot of time on the road anyway, so it makes good financial sense to have livable spaces where you guys can crash for a night or two whenever necessary. This building has a two-level underground parking garage and Diego thinks the lower level could be remodeled into a small arms firing range, a gym, and a few secure rooms. There are seven floors of office space above ground and Diego thinks the top couple of levels could be remodeled into living quarters."

"Whoa, Diego has been doing a lot of thinking, hasn't he?" I asked.

Mat smiled. "It gets even better. Diego has been making sketches of all these thoughts of his." Then he placed one of the folders on the tray in front of me and opened it. There were rough sketches, as well as some fairly detailed architectural drawings of the options Mat had just explained to me and he continued, "Diego figures that if you like what you see and you give him the green light to go ahead with it, he can approach his professors and use the finished designs as his senior year project. It's got all the residential, office, and recreational components he'll need to meet his academic requirements. And, he's already lined up an internship with one of New Jersey's top architectural firms. They'll have true professional oversight of the project, nice and proper."

As I examined the details in each of Diego's architectural drawings and diagrams, I felt an unexpected wave of emotions sweep over me. Here was the work of a man who had gone above and beyond the call of duty to watch over my Babe when I couldn't. He and my other Army friends had taken Dickie Orr out of the picture for good, and had also protected Steph from that sick cop, Joseph Morelli. I would be indebted to them forever.

It was a good thing I was already sitting down because my head started to spin. My mind immediately recognized Diego's talent and I had a feeling he wouldn't be working for my company for very long. In fact, with the high level of creativity and initiative Diego had shown by his work on this potential building renovation, I knew I'd be able to brag in the future about being _his_ first client. I owed Diego and my three other buddies a lot for watching over my Babe while I was gone. This was something I could do for Diego right now.

When I finished looking at all of the papers, I closed the file folder and tapped my finger on it. I looked up at Mateo and said, "Let's do this."

He smiled widely and replied, "That's what I thought you'd say." After I signed the authorization papers, he put the folder back into his briefcase, pulled out a different folder and placed it in front of me. "Now, on to the good news."

"This had _better_ be good," I murmured. My head was beginning to ache again, but I was trying to wean myself off of the painkillers. I had no desire to become addicted to that crap the way some of my fellow soldiers were.

"It's _very_ good news, hermano," Mat insisted. "As you already know, EA Games bought out the small company that produced your first three games, _Search and Destroy_, _War Games_, and _The Hunted. _And they've already made a very generous offer for the privilege of producing your fourth game, _Redemption_." He turned to the contract that was awaiting my signature and I read through it carefully.

The offer before me was for an obscene amount of money. I glanced at Mateo and said, "This is way too much. I mean, I know my other games have been successful, but…"

Mateo cut in, "They want the rights to make a movie out of all four games. From what I hear, they plan on making them into a major blockbuster film. It's going to be _huge_! One of my associates who specializes in entertainment law helped me write this contract to include the provision for you to receive a percentage of the royalties from the movie, as well as any future DVD sales. Like I said, this is very good news, Carlos."

I leaned back in the chair and chuckled. I had always thought it would take a long time to build up my security business, working hard to gain the confidence and trust of my future clients and waiting for my good reputation to spread and create new opportunities. Now, with the money I would be making from the sale of my games and the potential for a continuous stream of income from a movie deal, I could afford to immediately hire all the help I needed, start working on the building renovation in Trenton, and purchase all the newest and best computer systems and high-tech gadgets my business would require. This was far beyond my wildest dreams. RangeMan was going to burst onto the scene in a big way.

"That's one hell of a smile, Carlos. It can't just be about this deal," Mat said. "What are you _really_ thinking about?"

I leaned forward again and signed the contract. Then I looked up at my cousin and said, "My Old Man would keel over if he knew I could now afford to buy _Rosa's_ ten times over."

_Stephanie's POV_

"Ooooh. Mmmmmm. Yeah, that's feels sooooo good," I moaned.

"You like it like that, huh, Babe?" Carlos' sexy growl tickled my ear.

"Ohhhh, yessssss," I purred as his magic fingers kneaded out the knots in my tight shoulder and neck muscles.

"So, the interviews were stressful?" he asked.

"No, not really," I murmured weakly. "It was the traffic on the way home that did me in. I hate driving in City traffic!"

Carlos gently kissed the nape of my neck before he slid around next to me on our sofa and wrapped his arm over my shoulder. "I rented a car today, so …. I'll drive you into the City tomorrow, if you'd like. Dawson, too."

I reached up and stroked the side of his face and said, "Thanks, but Dawson's already decided to hire a car service to be at our beck and call all day tomorrow. That way, we won't have to deal with parking garages or hailing taxis once we're in Manhattan."

"Sounds like a plan," Carlos said and then he started to nibble and lick his way up my neck until he reached my lips and plunged inside. Suddenly, my stomach growled loudly, causing him to break off our kiss. "_Babe_. When did you last feed the Beast?"

"Lunch?" I guessed, not really sure.

He stood up and pulled me up with him. Then he led me into the kitchen and lifted me onto one of the tall chairs. "I'll make us some roast beef sandwiches. I know your father didn't eat the entire roast from last night, so you just sit tight and dinner will be ready before you know it."

Carlos was true to his word. He quickly made our dinner – roast beef on white bread with lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard for me and roast beef on whole grain bread with tomato and sprouts for him. He also heated some of the leftover mashed potatoes in the microwave oven and served them along with the sandwiches. I got home so late, my father had already eaten his dinner and taken Blackie down to the basement for some Motown bonding.

"What? No gravy?" I joked in mock horror as I stared down at the naked potatoes on my plate.

"That stuff'll clog your arteries, Babe," he replied.

"Hmph!" I sniffed, but I was too tired to get up off my chair to get some gravy for myself. Instead, I asked Carlos how his day had gone and took a big bite of my sandwich.

"It was good," Carlos replied. "I rented a car. And, as you could see, I parked it the garage the way cars _should_ be parked. Now it's ready to go at a moment's notice."

I had, of course, noticed the shiny new Porsche Cayenne in our garage when I pulled in earlier that evening, but I still rolled my eyes at Carlos' comment. "I like the way I park. If backing the cars into the garage is that important to you, _you_ can park my car for me when I get home."

"I just might do that," he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he held my gaze for a long moment until I finally blinked and said, "Whatever."

"Mateo came over and I signed a bunch of paperwork," Carlos continued as though we hadn't just had a little stand-off about the whole parking thing again.

Then he proceeded to tell me about his day, which included a meeting with the father of a man whose life he had saved when he was overseas on his last mission. And I could hardly believe my ears when Carlos told me about his "little hobby" of creating computer games. It turns out he's made megabucks from the sales of those games and now he has a new deal with some big-name computer game company to make a movie out of the games he's created. If the lingerie business ever goes belly up, Rex and Blackie and I won't have to worry – my Superman will never let us go hungry. Last, but not least, he told me about a possible location for his security company, RangeMan, down in Trenton.

"Trenton!" I exclaimed. "I just barely escaped from there. Why Trenton?"

"It's the state capital, Babe," he explained. "There's a lot of potential for a lot of business."

"Unfortunately, that's true," I agreed. "From what my dad's always said, his cousin, Vinnie, the one who runs the bail bonds business, hardly ever lacks for clients. But seriously, I'm glad to be out of Trenton." I had already told Carlos what my father had said about his separation from my mother and all the messy gossip her affair with the police commissioner was producing down in the 'Burg, so he just patted my hand in sympathy.

"Mateo says it won't be that bad of a commute," Carlos said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than me. "In fact, when you see the building renovation plans my buddy Diego designed, you'll see how the RangeMan headquarters could become our little oasis in the middle of a cesspool."

I rolled my eyes again. "Gee, that sounds like fun. Not!" Then I sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Carlos. I take that back. You've always supported me in everything I've wanted to do and look where it's gotten us." I waved my arms to indicate the room and house around us. Then I placed my hand on top of his and continued, "You know I'll support whatever it is that you want to do with your security company or your computer games or whatever. You're my Superman and you can do anything. Even if you have to do it in Trenton."

"Thanks, Babe," he smiled at me and gave me a tender kiss. After we finished eating, we cuddled on the sofa again while Carlos checked the box scores on ESPN. When he'd had enough of sports, he turned to me and said, "I have something for you."

Grinning up at him, I guessed, "Is it another charm?"

He tilted his head away from me and replied, "Am I becoming predictable?"

I held up my wrist and jangled my pretty charm bracelet at him. "I wouldn't say you've become predictable, but I love your little surprises so much, I'm just waiting for them all the time now."

Carlos looked like he was thinking about smiling. Instead, he reached between the couch cushions and pulled out a brown paper package that was larger than the velvet boxes in which the charms had arrived. Then he held my hands and gazed intently into my eyes.

"Before you open this, I need to explain some things," he began. "I'm only going to talk about this once, so listen carefully until I'm finished. The meeting I had with the man I told you about earlier – Mr. Morgan – brought back some memories that were … difficult for me. His son told him that he knew I could have just as easily killed him instead of sparing his life. If it hadn't been for you, Babe, and the hope your presence in my life had given me, my mindset would have been much harder, darker, and I probably would have taken him out with one clean shot. I might not have been able to survive the firefight which would have resulted from my actions. But God had mercy on me for having mercy on Curt Morgan. Because of that, we gained the valuable information which allowed us to finish our overseas mission and come home alive in time to stop the terrorists who had set up their operations in Philadelphia. There's so much more I can't tell you, but while I was … where I was, I had to do some civilian-type shopping in order to validate and preserve my cover. I mostly bought stuff like food and little trinkets to give to our hosts. But sometimes, I couldn't help but think about you whenever I saw something pretty at a vendor's stall." He placed the package in my lap. "_This_ present is a token of my time away from you, but it also represents the fact that my thoughts of you brought me back home to you. Without you, Babe, even if I _had_ survived, I'd still be lost." Then he squeezed my hands and kissed me.

My fingers trembled as I opened the package. It was a round, handcrafted wooden box, decorated with carved flowers and vines. I lifted the lid and was surprised by the strong scent of ground cinnamon that wafted into my nose. Inside was a small wad of tissue paper. After Carlos urged me on with a nod, I unwrapped a tiny pendant and gasped. It was a stunningly beautiful silver disc, inlaid with a smooth, brilliant blue stone.

"It's lapis lazuli in pure silver," Carlos explained. "There was a group of tribal nomads that came through the town where I was staying. The nomads have always traveled long distances as they followed their herds, not particularly caring which national lines they were crossing, even though they're constantly getting caught between warring factions. They were selling a variety of things at the bazaar that day, including the pendant, which I thought would make a good charm due to its size. Of course, the blue reminded me of your eyes. And the box is a Turkman Kuchi traditional spice box, which, now that I think about it, would make a great little place to store your charm bracelet on your nightstand before you go to bed."

Silent tears had been streaming down my face while Carlos talked. My vivid imagination allowed me to see him in mind's eye, deciding not to shoot this mysterious Curt Morgan fellow, whoever he was. And I imagined Carlos browsing through the vendors' stalls in some dusty Middle Eastern bazaar, discovering the treasures I now held in my hands. Part of me wanted to be offended about his last comment, though. Of course I knew it bothered Carlos; the way I took off my charm bracelet every night and set it on the surface of the nightstand. It wasn't tidy. So, okay, I liked the spice box enough to follow his suggestion. And I loved the pendant/charm.

"Are you sure the charm won't cause you to have bad memories whenever you see it," I cautiously asked as he helped me fasten it to my bracelet. The charm looked perfect, as though it had been made for me – just like the other charms now dangling from my wrist.

"I'm sure," he replied. "In fact, I think the charm and the box will help to remind me that there _were_ some good times and some good people over where I was. I hope and pray they're doing okay."

I hugged Carlos tightly and pulled him down on top of me for a long, deep kiss. We might have even removed a piece of clothing or two. I'm not sure how long we were entangled on the sofa, but we eventually heard my father and Blackie trying to sneak past us as they headed into the kitchen. After my giggle and Carlos' snort, Blackie came around the sofa to see if we might possibly have a doggie treat for him.

"Sorry," my father mumbled. "We were just, um … Blackie and me were … ah, hell. A man and a woman ought to be able to do whatever they want, whenever they want in their own home. I'm so sorry. You see, this is why I gotta move into my new place as soon as possible. You two _need_ your privacy!" Then he stomped off into the kitchen and we heard him rummaging through the fridge for a snack.

Damn! How embarrassing! I had never let either of my parents catch me in the act of heavy petting – ever. And even though I knew I would miss Dad terribly when he moved into his apartment the following week, my father was right about one thing: Carlos and I definitely _needed_ our privacy, and soon!

**TBC**


	49. Chapter 49 Chapter 133

**CHAPTER 133**

_Stephanie's POV_

We were having a fabulous week at Books/Plum Designs. The interviews Dawson and I had done during the week generated thousands of orders from all over the world, especially the Asian markets.

During our days of giving interviews to the major fashion magazines in NYC, we'd also visited Kazuhiro Watanabe, Melinda's Kaz, at the Takashimaya department store on Fifth Avenue, where he had set up an Internet interview with us. As Dawson and I spoke about our Mother's Day campaign here in the U.S., Kaz translated our words into Japanese, Chinese, and a few other languages spoken in Southeast Asia and the Philippines, for the Asian webcasts. The response was overwhelming. The Tokyo computer servers almost crashed with the overload of web searches and requests for _Babe!_ lingerie, but our partners in Japan were able to keep the website from going down.

On Thursday afternoon, during the limousine ride from Manhattan back to Newark, Dawson turned to me and said, "You know, Stephanie, I really like Mr. Watanabe. He's intelligent and charming and has phenomenal language skills. His assistance was invaluable while we were in Hawaii and this week's interviews with him were probably the best ones we've had all week. I haven't been so impressed with someone since I first met you."

"Aw, Dawson, you're making me blush," I said and I playfully punched him on his arm.

He smiled back at me. "And it looks lovely on you, my dear. Seriously though, do you think he would ever consider 'jumping ship' to work directly for us? I think he's just the person we need to stay on top of things with all of our partners throughout Asia."

I considered this for a moment before answering, "He might. I know Kaz and Melinda have become fairly serious lately and she's hinted that his family is making life very difficult for him. They've even threatened to bring him back to Japan in order to exert more control over his personal life."

"You're kidding."

"Unfortunately, I'm not," I replied. "Remember that one Tokyo boutique we had to negotiate really hard to get into? Well, the real deal was that Kaz's uncle, who's apparently a control freak, had arranged an engagement between Kaz and the daughter of the owner of that boutique. Needless to say, the arranged marriage never happened. _She_ was at the meeting in Japan where we first met Kazuhiro. Talk about awkward! Things got real intense in that conference room and the woman finally walked out on him – and us."

"So, you think Mr. Watanabe might be amenable to joining our company?"

"It's a good possibility," I answered. "Would you like Melinda to ask him? Discreetly, of course."

Dawson shook his head emphatically, "Oh, no. Certainly not. I'd rather handle this myself. Stealing a high-level executive from another company can be a delicate business. And with this particular company, I'll need to make sure all parties can save face."

"Ah, yes, of course, you're right about that," I nodded. "You always seem to know how to handle people just right. I hope I can grow up to be as good a diplomat as you, Dawson."

"All in good time, my dear," he said with a wink. "All in good time. By the way, Rosa and I thoroughly enjoyed having you and Carlos over for dinner the other night. My wife is ecstatic to have her grandson back home again, especially so that she can spoil him rotten by cooking all of his favorite dishes. And you know, when Rosa is happy, I am _very_ happy."

"We had a great time, too," I replied. "The food was awesome and I think Carlos was very impressed by the size and grandeur of your beautiful home. While I think he is still getting used to the 'new' independent Rosa, he's so glad his grandmother has a second chance at life with you. We look forward to visiting you again very soon."

"You know you both are welcome in our home anytime," Dawson assured me and I smiled back at him. Then he asked, "How much longer do you think you and Rosa will be able to maintain the charade of her not being able to speak English? Honestly, I don't mind being the interpreter between you two whenever anyone else is around, but Tuesday almost became ludicrous. You know, I believe Carlos is on the verge of discovering the truth, anyway."

I slumped down in my seat and groaned, "I know. I know. But I promised Rosa I would keep her secret for as long as she wanted me to. And I told her I wouldn't lie to Carlos, but I think he's avoiding asking the questions he knows I don't want to answer. What more can I do?"

Dawson patted my hand. "I'll talk to Rosa again. Perhaps she'll bend – just a little. We shall see."

Our meetings in NYC began so early and the traffic was so nerve-racking, Dawson arranged for a car service to pick us up before any of our staff had clocked in for the day. When we arrived back at our offices in the Books/Plum building, almost everyone was already gone for the day. Tina, however, greeted us with a huge grin. I had just placed my briefcase on my desk when my intercom buzzed and Dawson asked me to come to his office.

"What's up?" I asked as I crossed the space to stand in front of his desk.

"I have something for you," Dawson replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "Close the door to my office and you'll see it."

I did as he asked and as the door swung shut, I gasped. "No! It can't be!" I could only stand there and stare.

Dawson chuckled and said, "I told you my friend was good. And fast! Apparently, she delivered it today, while we were away. There was a note on my desk when we returned. She said she'll be waiting for your call to arrange for any adjustments."

I held my breath and carefully unzipped the long white garment bag. The air whooshed out of my lungs as I gazed upon my custom-made wedding gown for the very first time. Every detail I had sketched out was right in front of my face. It was perfect! I began to cry. Dawson walked over to me and put his arm around my shoulder. He held out his pristine handkerchief and I took it to wipe away the tears from my face and eyes.

"It's so … it's so beautiful!" I cried. I remembered how uncomfortable I had felt in my first wedding dress – the poofy ball gown my mother assured me was perfect for me when I married Dickie Orr. But this was _my_ dress. Designed _by_ me, _for_ me, exclusively. I couldn't wait to try it on.

"Go ahead," urged Dawson, obviously reading my mind – unless I had spoken aloud. "Take the dress down to the studio dressing rooms and try it on. Let's see how it looks on you."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I gently took the dress, safely inside its garment bag, and held it up high to keep it off of the floor. Tina was already hovering in the hallway, so she joined us as we headed for the elevator. Even though she'd heard it before, Dawson and I took turns retelling the story about him seeing my sketches and taking them to his designer friend who made my dream a reality.

When we got to the studio, Dawson waited for us in the showroom while I quickly shed my business suit. Tina helped me into my wedding gown, lacing up the back and adjusting the skirt. Then she stepped back and took in the whole picture.

"Oh, Stevie!" gasped Tina. "It's magnificent!"

I was speechless as I stared at myself in the mirror. The strapless ivory gown was pure perfection. And the simple elegant style was exactly the look I had envisioned with the soft fabric showcasing my curves beautifully. The delicate beadwork was just as I had imagined it and the ruffled hem was just right.

Tina straightened the train and exclaimed, "The fabric is so soft and silky and, Stevie," she raised her hand to her mouth "… it fits you like a glove." She was right. Unless I gained or lost a significant amount of weight prior to my wedding, I couldn't see where I'd need any adjustments to the beautiful creation. Tina gathered up the medium-length train and followed me out into the showroom.

"Oh, my dear!" Dawson placed his hand over his heart and gushed, "You are simply a vision from heaven. I wish Rosa were here to see you. It's lovely, just lovely!"

And it was. "I can't believe it's mine. It's perfect. It's me!" As I gazed at my reflection in the three-way mirror, I examined every detail of the dress from every direction. It was as though the dressmaker had taken my sketches and breathed life into them to lift them off of the page. I was amazed. I was in awe. I was ready to run home and make Carlos marry me immediately.

Fortunately, Tina recognized the glint in my eyes and she grabbed my arm before I could do something stupid. "Not so fast, Ms. Plum! Let's put this dress away for safe-keeping. I'm sure Mr. Books can store it someplace where your fiancé won't 'mistakenly' see it before the wedding."

She was talking to me as though I was a wayward child, which wasn't far from the truth, I suppose. Feeling a bit silly, I followed Tina back into the dressing room to change out of my beautiful gown before I could do something foolish and ruin everything. Dawson had waited for us and we all went back up to his office, where he took charge of the dress and hung it in his personal closet.

As he turned back to us, I leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Dawson. Thank you for making my dream a reality. First my lingerie sketches and now my wedding gown. You're a dream-maker."

Our boss became red-faced and waved aside my words, embarrassed by the attention. Then he clapped his hands together and said, "Ladies, this calls for a celebration! Between Tina's official engagement, all of the wonderful interviews this week, the success of our products in the Asian markets, and the surprise arrival of Stephanie's wedding gown, we _all_ deserve to have a night out on the town." Then he looked dejected for a moment. "Unfortunately, Rosa and I already have plans for tonight." Sighing heavily, he reached into his pocket and handed me the corporate credit card. "Ah, well. Here you go. I suppose it will have to be a girls-only party, after all. Don't worry about the cost. Tina, please gather everyone who's still available. Stephanie, I'll call the car service and get a limo back out here to take you wherever you want to go. I want you girls to have fun tonight!"

After I called Carlos to tell him about our impromptu "girls' night out," that's exactly what we did. All night long!

. . . . .

I was floating on an emerald island in the middle of a cool sapphire sea. The sun's rays were gently warming my pale skin and it felt so good I wanted to weep with joy. Except my head hurt – a lot. Tiny fish nibbled at my toes and legs and the tickling sensation became very pleasant. Then I realized I somehow had _become_ the emerald island floating in the sea. Suddenly, I was growing – no rising – out of the water and getting closer and closer to the sun. The heat became intense, but it didn't burn me. Instead the warmth flowed over and around and through me in the most incredible way until I couldn't bear it any longer. It was as though I was simultaneously expanding from and contracting into the very core of my being. When I felt my body shatter into a million emerald crystals, I woke up with a gasp.

"Whoa, Babe," Carlos' sexy voice soothed me. "Take it easy now," he said as he slid up along my body and then stroked damp tendrils of hair away from my face. "Don't go all '_whoo-jah_' on me, like you did the first time I tried to give you my special 'Sleeping Beauty wake-up call.' I still remember that ferocious kick of yours. Thankfully, you weren't dreaming about sharks this time, but I can tell that was pretty intense, even for you. Especially after last night."

"Last night? What about last night?" I moaned as I became aware of my surroundings and my head began to pound furiously. Obviously, I wasn't in some exotic location like Hawaii or the Caribbean; I was in my bed. Next to Carlos, my awesome Superman, who had just blown my mind in the most sensual way.

"You came home drunk off your cute little ass," Carlos murmured into my ear as he nibbled on my earlobe. It felt just like the little fish nibbles from my sexy dream.

"You think my ass is cute?" I asked, feeling warm and tingly all over, despite the pain behind my eyes.

"Mmm-hmm," he chuckled. "Along with the rest of your body." Damn! He sounded sexy. That low, growly laugh still sent lovely shivers down my spine. Part of me wanted to turn over on top of him and ride him like Zorro, but my head hurt too much when I tried to move and I squinted at the pain.

"Steady now," Carlos placed his warm hand in between my breasts to hold me down. "Despite my best efforts to bring you gently into the day, I don't think you'll be in any shape to go anywhere for a while."

"Ungh," I groaned. "You got that right. What happened?"

Carlos slowly lifted his upper torso and propped himself up on his side to stare down at me. "Girls' night out," he replied with a grin. "Don't you remember?"

Oh yeah. Now it all came flooding back to me. We had had a banner week at Books/Plum Designs. And even though it was only Thursday, we knew we had to celebrate our success with an impromptu girls' night out, especially since my family was coming over for dinner and to meet Carlos on Friday night. _Tonight_! Yikes! No wonder I got royally smashed.

Carlos kissed me gently on the lips once more and then he got out of the bed.

"You deserve a break today. Stay there," he ordered. "I'll be right back with your breakfast."

On any other day, I might have taken exception to his bossy tone of voice, but today I was glad to be Carlos' obedient little soldier. My "battlefield injuries" from the previous night's indulgences kept me safely tucked under my covers. I felt a gentle pressure on the bedspread and patted my hand on top of it. Blackie jumped onto the bed and curled up next to me as I stroked his soft fur. I vaguely remember hearing the sound of the garage door opening and closing as I drifted back to sleep. The next thing I knew, the unmistakable scent of McDonald's French fries wafted into my nose and I struggled to open my eyes.

"Rise and shine, Wonder Woman," Carlos sat on the bed next to me and urged me to full awareness by shaking the paper bag filled with goodies next to my ear. "As bad as this stuff is for you, the world awaits your next move, so I've come to the rescue with your _traditional_ hangover cure."

I smiled up at his gorgeous face as I pushed myself up into a seated position. Carlos made eye contact with our sweet puppy and raised an eyebrow. Blackie jumped down off of our bed and curled up in his own doggie bed. Then Carlos placed a few pillows behind my back and lifted a bed tray off the floor to settle over my lap. He grinned at me as he placed the McDonald's Happy Meal bag and the large drink cup in front of me.

"Omigod!" I exclaimed. "Carlos, you're the best!" Then I reached into the bag, pulled out some hot fries and stuffed them into my mouth. After a few sips of the ice cold cola and several more fries, my headache began to subside. I leaned back against the pillows and sighed in contentment.

Carlos laughed aloud and said, "Babe, you never disappoint."

I threw a fry at his head and he caught it with his mouth. Then I asked, "Did you get yourself anything to eat while you were out?"

His grin turned wicked and he replied, "I had coffee, but you know very well what _I_ already ate."

Of course I did. After I turned pink from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I said, "Okaaay. Well, then, did you get me a girl toy or a boy toy?"

Carlos pursed his lips and smirked as though he was getting ready to make another smart-ass remark, but then he lowered his voice and purred, "There are some things a girl should find out for herself. Check the bottom of the bag."

I reached into the bag, beyond the now-empty fry container and pulled out a cellophane bag with a Hot Wheels™ car inside of it. "Oh! You got me another car!" I exclaimed. "How sweet!" I flashed a saucy grin at him before I tore open the bag and held up the shiny red miniature racecar. "It's beautiful; I love it!" Then I leaned forward and his lips met mine for a nice long kiss.

When we finally ended the kiss, Carlos brushed his lips against my ear and said, "There's something else in the bag, too. Reach in again."

Playing along, I figured my smooth Latin lover had charmed the McDonald's drive-thru attendant into giving him some sort of Barbie™ or other "girl" toy along with my little car. I pulled out another cellophane bag and got quite the surprise. At first, I couldn't figure out what I was holding. The box inside of the bag was neither pink nor purple; it was … just like the little boxes my charms came in!

Ripping open the bag to get the box, I said, "Oh, Carlos, you shouldn't have!"

Inside the box was another charm. This time, it was the highly-recognizable logo of my favorite fast-food restaurant. Yep, my man had given me the golden arches – my very own McDonald's logo for my charm bracelet.

"I probably shouldn't indulge your passion for junk food," he said. "But I thought you'd enjoy having a special memento of one of your favorite places to eat."

I leaned over and kissed him again before I said, "You know me so well. Another fond memory."

Carlos merely grinned and watched as I pulled my bracelet out of the little wooden box he had given me. I didn't notice what he was doing while I attached my newest charm and then put on the bracelet to admire all of my "prizes." When I finally looked away from my wrist, I saw that Carlos had slid off of our bed and positioned himself onto the knee of his unhurt leg.

Tears began to well up in my eyes. I hadn't expected anything like this, but Carlos was full of surprises. He had such a tender look on his face when he grasped my left hand, gazed up at me and said, "Stephanie… Babe, from the moment you came crashing into my life, you've held my heart in your hands. You believed it was possible for us to have a 'happily ever after.' You gave me every reason to live and to fight my way back from almost certain death and I will spend the rest of my life in gratitude for the way your love has saved me." His thumb stroked over my precious opal ring before he continued, "When you originally agreed to marry me, I didn't truly comprehend the tremendous impact you would have on my life, as well as my family's lives. You're the love of my life, Babe. You're my everything. I love you."

Then Carlos gently removed the opal ring from my left hand and placed it on the ring finger of my right hand. He reached under the bed and pulled out what looked like an incredible replica of a royal blue and gold Fabergé egg. I gasped again when he opened the egg-shaped treasure box and I saw the exquisite blue diamond and platinum ring nestled in the satiny folds of its inside lining. The incredible deep blue of the three huge diamonds set side by side literally took my breath away!

"Stephanie Michelle Plum," Carlos said, his voice now a husky rasp. "Te amo, siempre y para siempre. ¿Me harías el honor de ser mi esposa? [_I love you, always and forever. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?_] I love you, always and forever. Will you marry me?

"Yes," I sniffled through my tears. "Yes, I will marry you, Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, Junior. And I also will love you, always and forever. Te amo, siempre y para siempre."

The last coherent thought I had before my wonderful Superman slid the gorgeous engagement ring onto the ring finger of my left hand and then kissed the living daylights out of me, was _"Who said McDonald's was bad for you?"_

**TBC**


	50. Chapter 50 Chapter 134

**CHAPTER 134**

_Carlos' POV_

On the afternoon of the Plums' visit, I endured "Hurricane" Stephanie as she cleaned and tidied the townhouse from top to bottom in preparation for her family coming to dinner. It was interesting to watch my woman in action as she put clothes away and cleared the desk and swept and vacuumed. These were chores I wouldn't have minded doing for Steph, but she insisted I stay out of her way while she did what she felt she needed to do. My Babe was not a "clean freak" by any stretch of the imagination, but I could tell she wanted to make a good impression on her family. She even made little name cards for everyone and placed them around the dinner table.

"I have to make sure Dad and Grandma Mazur aren't sitting next to each other. Things always seem to go better that way," she explained as she put the place cards where she wanted them to go. "And with the current situation, it's probably a good idea to keep Dad and Mom apart, too."

When I noticed she and I were to sit at opposite ends of the table, I asked, "Are you sure you don't want to sit next to me, Babe? I could at least hold your hand under the table for moral support."

"I thought about that, but no," she shook her head. "We both have to be sitting at the positions of authority tonight. Even so, I doubt we'll be able to maintain control over the conversation."

"Hey! I think I resent that remark," I protested playfully.

"No offense, but you've never had dinner with the Plums," she said. "We'll count ourselves lucky if there's no bloodshed tonight."

"I'm already the luckiest man alive, Babe. I've got you," I said as I hugged her close to me and nuzzled her throat before I gently kissed her lips. We stayed that way, locked in a tender embrace, for a few minutes, until Steph's internal sense of impending doom took over and she went into a frenzy of checking on last-minute details.

"Babe, I thought everyone had already seen this place," I said as she tried to dash past me with fresh hand towels for the powder room. "Why are you so frantic?"

"I don't know," she replied. "My mother has always seen me as an extreme screw-up and I don't want to give her even the slightest opportunity to criticize me in my own house. It's ridiculous, but I just can't help myself."

I wrapped my fingers around her waist and pulled her toward me again. Then I pressed her against the hallway wall and murmured into her ear, "Stephanie, Querida, it doesn't matter what your mother thinks anymore. All that self-doubt is in the past, along with your mother and her bad attitude. _I'm_ in the present with you now and I won't allow your mother to drive you crazy tonight." Then I lifted her left hand to my mouth and kissed the sparkling engagement ring. "I'm your future, too, so I want you to relax. Take a deep breath and let it out nice and slow. We're going to do this together, Babe, and it's going to be good."

Then I kissed her deeply and, of course, it was good.

Our little "moment" was interrupted by the doorbell's mellow ringing. I could hear the slight sound of Blackie barking; he'd been relegated to the basement tonight as Stephanie couldn't handle one more distraction. I released her and we stepped away from each other after one more brief kiss. Stephanie rushed into the powder room to place the hand towels on their rack and then she hurried to join me at the front door. After she took a deep breath, she opened it and we ushered in an elderly couple.

"Grandma Mazur! Mr. Sneed! It's so good to see you again. Please come in," Steph said she hugged them. Then she introduced me.

"This is my fiancé, Carlos," she said, entwining her fingers between mine and pulling me forward. "Actually, his name is Captain Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, Junior, but _nobody_ calls him 'Junior.' Just Carlos. And maybe Captain Mañoso or Ranger Mañoso, because he's an Army Ranger. But he's on an official leave of absence right now." Then she glanced at the grin on my face and asked, "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Chuckling, I extended my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am, sir."

"Wow! A Ranger!" Mr. Sneed whistled and then shook my hand. "I reckon Stephanie's got herself a real live American hero here, huh, Edna?"

Edna, the grandmother, gently pushed Steph aside, ignored my hand and gave me a full body contact hug. I swear the woman even squeezed my ass before she released me. It was rather startling to be "felt up" by a little old lady.

"Oh, yes!" Edna cackled. "This one is all prime rib and rump roast. You can really sink your teeth into him, Stephanie. Good girl!"

Steph gasped. "Grandma, _behave_!"

Edna shook her head. "Oh, don't worry about me; I'm not trying to steal your man. I've got Wilbur and he keeps me more than happy in the sack, if you know what I mean."

"Jeez, Edna!" Frank exclaimed as he walked around her to close the front door. "Give it a rest, will ya?" The man obviously had just taken a shower and was dressed in a nice pair of casual khaki slacks and a blue button-down shirt.

"Hey, Frank, it's good to see you, too," Edna replied to him. "I'm sorry Ellen is being such a pain in the patoot. I think she's just going through '_the change_' and it's made her crazy." She wiggled her fingers in a gesture of air quotation marks, then she turned to me and said, "You know, when I went through my own change, I almost killed Stephanie's grandfather. Harry, God rest his soul, was doing the daily crossword puzzle _in ink_, which he knew I couldn't stand. I got so mad at him, I just took hold of his family jewels and squeezed until he cried 'Uncle!' After that, he used a pencil, like he was supposed to do in the first place."

Wilbur, Frank and I all took a slight step away from the self-proclaimed "nutcracker" Edna Mazur. Stephanie just looked horrified. Now I was beginning to understand my Babe's apprehensions about me meeting her family. The doorbell rang again. This time, a petite blonde woman and two cute little girls were standing there.

"Aunt Stephanie!" the girls cried and rushed forward to hug her legs.

Steph leaned over and gave each of the girls a big hug before she straightened and said, "Carlos, this is my sister, Valerie, and her daughters, Angie and Mary Alice. Girls, this is my fiancé, Carlos."

The girls gazed up at me and their mouths dropped open.

"Wow! You're even more handsomer than your picture!" the younger girl gasped.

Her sister scowled at her, as only an older sister can do, and corrected, "You mean more _handsome_. There's no such word as 'handsomer'."

"Girls! That's enough," Valerie scolded in a sweet voice. "Just say 'Hello' to Captain Mañoso."

"Hello, Captain Mañoso," the girls said in unison, as they smiled shyly at me.

I lowered myself to the girls' eye level and said, "It's very nice to meet you girls. You know I'm going to marry your Aunt Stephanie, right?"

They both nodded.

"Then I think it'll be okay for you to call me Uncle Carlos from now on," I replied.

"Okay, Uncle Carlos," they said in unison and then burst into giggles.

Steph beamed at me and Frank grinned as the little girls greeted their grandfather with big hugs and then they raced into the living room to greet their great grandmother and her beau.

"Hi, Daddy," Valerie said to Frank as she kissed him on the cheek. "Is Mom here, yet?"

Frank shook his head. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence and then Stephanie encouraged everyone to sit in the living room, where she had set out a platter of cheese and crackers and fruit. I offered to make drinks, but everyone just wanted beer. Except Valerie. She asked for a glass of white wine. I gave Stephanie's nieces some apple juice in fancy tumblers.

A few minutes after everyone was settled on the sofa and chairs, the doorbell rang again. I watched my Babe transform from a lively, confident hostess into a pale-faced, tense woman. I knew both Steph and her sister still had issues with their mother, just as Alex and I had had issues with our father, but I was hoping for as good an outcome for the Plum women as the Mañoso men were experiencing.

"Relax, Babe," I whispered into Steph's ear as we walked to the front door together. "You know I won't let anyone mess with you – including your mother. Especially not your mother. I've got your back."

Steph nodded and took another calming breath before we opened the door to a middle-aged woman with squinting eyes and pursed lips. Steph stepped forward and said, "Hello, Mom. We're so glad you could make it tonight. Everyone else is already here. Please come in and meet Carlos, my fiancé. Carlos, this is my mother, Ellen Plum."

Steph's mom gave her a critical look and then she gave me a cool once-over with her bright blue eyes. Clearly, she wasn't pleased to meet me and her expressive eyes told me everything I needed to know. Yep, my Babe definitely got her eyes from her mother's side of the gene pool. Thankfully, though, Steph hadn't inherited her mother's thinly disguised veneer of polite prejudice.

After ushering her in, I held out my hand to the medium-height woman with brown, shoulder-length hair and pale skin. She looked almost stylish wearing a blue and white floral-patterned dress with a dark blue wrap and navy shoes with a "sensible" heel. Ellen Plum hesitated for a moment before she gave me a very limp, unenthusiastic handshake. Sighing inwardly, I realized we all were a long way from making any true progress with her.

"It's … ah… good … to … ah, actually meet you, Carlos," she said with a great deal of hesitation and I released her hand.

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," I replied coolly. Obviously, we both knew we were lying through our teeth.

Frank had come out of the living room and was standing behind us. "Hey, Ellen. How's it goin'?" They gave each other an awkward hug. Then he took her wrap and draped it over a hanger in the hall closet.

"Am I really the last one to arrive?" Ellen asked, glancing around.

"Yep," Frank nodded once and returned to the living room.

Stephanie touched her mother's arm and asked, "Would you like a drink before I serve dinner? Everyone's in the living room, where I put out the appetizers."

I felt Ellen's cool gaze on me again before she answered, "Yes, please. Stephanie knows what I like." Then she turned to follow Frank into the living room.

Steph blew out a sigh and whispered, "And now the fun begins." She poured whiskey into a tumbler glass, which I dutifully delivered to Ellen, who mumbled her appreciation and then turned her back to me to continue her conversation with Valerie. Talk about a cold shoulder! I could almost feel the frostiness radiating from her stiff body.

I left the Plums to fend for themselves while Steph and I put the food on the dining room table. We were eating family style, of course. Due to Stephanie's "practice meal" earlier that week, every dish turned out great. I'm not a big fan of pot roast, but it was tender and juicy as I sliced off the pieces of meat and arranged them on the platter with the braised vegetables. Both the gravy and the mashed potatoes were smooth and creamy, without any lumps or chunkiness. The tossed salad I made was perfect, of course. And we served a nice red wine with the meal, along with water for everyone and milk for the little girls.

As soon as we were ready, we invited the family to come to the table. Although there were a few moments of chaos when everyone entered the dining room, each person soon found his or her name card and took a seat at the large table. As planned, I sat at the head of the table with Stephanie at the opposite end. Ellen was seated to my left, with Edna between her and Wilbur on one side of the table. Angie sat to my right, then Valerie and Mary Alice and, finally, Frank was next to Stephanie.

"Wow! Look at this set-up!" Edna gushed as she wiggled around on her upholstered chair. "This is real fancy, Stephanie. I think the last time I had an assigned seat for supper was at Myrna Kolokowski's granddaughter's wedding back in November. Now _that_ was a fiasco, I tell ya! The bride was so pregnant; she looked like a big white whale."

"Isn't she the one who gave birth to a set of fraternal twin boys?" Valerie asked.

"Those are the kind of twins that don't look exactly the same," Angie explained to Mary Alice in a superior tone. Mary Alice didn't look impressed.

Edna nodded. "Yeah. But now there's big trouble brewing, because one of the babies came out looking not very White and he's continued to get darker as he's gotten older. Apparently, the bride was also fooling around with the groom's old college roommate, who happens to be from Kenya. It's a helluva story!"

Both Valerie and Ellen gasped in horror.

Edna continued, clearly enjoying her storytelling. "Everyone down at the beauty parlor thinks they all ought to go on the Jerry Springer show. That'd be a real a pip, huh?"

Ellen shuddered and spoke up before the conversation could go any further. "Shouldn't there be a blessing over the food now?"

"Oh! Oh!" Mary Alice raised her hand as though she was in her classroom. "May I please say the blessing?"

I looked at Stephanie and shrugged, so she said, "Sure, Mary Alice. That will be very nice. Go ahead."

The little girl made the sign of the cross, which we all followed, then she bowed her head dutifully and said very quickly, "Good bread, good meat. Good God, let's eat! Amen!"

"Mary Alice!" Ellen exclaimed with a disapproving scowl. "You know I've taught you better than that. Where did you hear such a disrespectful prayer?"

"That's what we always say when Alberto comes over for dinner," Mary Alice replied. Then she glanced at her mother, who was sitting next to her, turning pink with embarrassment.

"Alberto?" Ellen raised an eyebrow at Valerie. "Just how often does _Alberto_ come over for dinner?" Her voice dripped disapproval.

"A … few times … a week," Valerie admitted hesitantly.

Mary Alice sensed the rising tension and she asked, "Did I do wrong?" Her little voice was whiny with confusion.

Valerie sighed and patted her little girl's hand. "Don't worry about it, baby. It's just that Grandma Plum prefers to say one of our more … um, traditional blessings."

"And she doesn't like Alberto, either," Angie whispered in a loud voice.

"It was a great blessing, Mary Alice!" Steph exclaimed. "I'm gonna remember that one and teach it to my kids someday."

Ellen gasped again and asked, "Stephanie Michelle Plum, are you … are you _pregnant_?" She whispered the last word for emphasis. I could see that this family did a lot of loud whispering.

"No, Mom, I'm not," Steph rolled her eyes and twirled her hand in the air dismissively. "I'm just saying I liked Mary Alice's blessing and I want to remember it for future reference. That's all."

"Omigod!" gasped Valerie. "Stephanie, what's on your ring finger?"

My Babe grinned widely and announced, "Carlos proposed to me – _again_ – and this is my _official_ engagement ring." Then, with a graceful flourish, she held out her left hand so that everyone could get a good look at her ring. "What do you think? Isn't it gorgeous?"

Everyone _oohed_ and _ahhed_ as the precious gems sparkled under the lights.

"Those _can't_ be real sapphires," proclaimed Ellen. "Of course, it's a step up from that opal ring, but I seriously doubt the setting is _pure_ silver. It looks very nice, even though it's probably just silver-plated."

Stephanie's face flushed with indignation at her mother's rudeness and I could feel my body gearing up for a fight. Before I spoke, I inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled.

"You're absolutely correct, Mrs. Plum," I said evenly, determined to maintain my cool. Thankfully, I'd had many years of practice dealing with my father and his asinine behavior. "The ring isn't made of pure silver nor is it white gold; it's platinum. And those aren't sapphires at all; they're blue diamonds, 3 carats each."

"P-p-platinum and b-b-blue … _diamonds_?" Ellen sputtered in amazement. With her bulging eyes and reddened face, she looked like a goldfish out of its bowl.

I nodded. "Only the best for my Babe. She's worth every penny and more." Then I raised my wine glass and said, "I'd like to propose a toast to my lovely fiancée, Stephanie."

"Here, here!" chanted Frank and the rest of the table joined him in clinking their glasses together. Then they all had to get up and take a closer look at the ring and give Steph a hug. Almost everyone congratulated both Steph and me as they marveled over the unique engagement ring. Finally, after a very close inspection of the ring from every angle, Ellen reluctantly lifted her glass in a weak echo of the toast and then drained every last drop of her wine before reaching for the bottle to get a refill. I got the feeling the evening was not going the way Stephanie's mother wanted and that she wasn't very happy about it.

After that, we began to pass the various dishes around the table and put the food on our plates. At first, everyone ate and nobody complained about anything. There were even several compliments on the juiciness of the roast and the creaminess of the potatoes and gravy. I was proud of my Babe. Then Stephanie entertained the girls with a story about attending a luau during her trip to Hawaii, but the others listened in, too. We were only a few minutes into the meal, though, when I sensed there was trouble brewing and I felt almost powerless to stop it.

Ellen had pressed her lips together tightly until she decided to speak. "So, Carlos, I understand you're in the Army," she said, with a sharp edge to her voice. "Frank was in the Army, too. A long, long time ago – during Vietnam. Did he tell you?"

"Yes, we've talked about it," I replied.

Ellen glared at her soon-to-be-ex-husband and said, "That's rather strange, considering he never would talk to _me_ about what happened. And I _know_ he never made the kind of money it must have taken for you to be able to buy Stephanie such an extravagant engagement ring."

"Things were different back then," I said. "The Army pay is a bit better nowadays, but even so, I have some other business investments that have done very well over time."

Ellen lifted her head up giving the appearance she was looking down her nose at me. "I hope you're not doing anything illegal," Ellen said in a judgmental tone.

I took a deep breath to stay calm before I replied, "No. I write … computer programs. And since I plan to get out of the Army next year, I'll be starting my own security business very soon." I wasn't going to give this woman any more details than absolutely necessary, especially since she seemed determined to not like me.

"Security business? Is that sorta like law enforcement?" Edna asked. "Like those rent-a-cops at the mall?"

I replied, "My company will specialize in corporate and residential security systems, as well as personal security services."

"Ain't that one of those fancy terms for 'body guards'?" Wilbur asked.

"Yes."

"Well, that sounds pretty dangerous," Ellen said. Then she turned to Stephanie and asked, "Why didn't you just stick with Joseph Morelli? At least he's employed in _actual_ law enforcement."

Frank warned, "Don't go there, Ellen."

At this point, I'm pretty sure I growled. This woman was un-fucking-believable!

Across the table, Stephanie's eyes pleaded with me not to overreact as she said, "Mom, please don't mention that man's name to me ever again. It's over. Actually, it never began."

"Ain't that the truth?" Edna declared before she took a big gulp of her wine. "You know, I heard that old bat, Bella Morelli, put the evil eye on you, Ellen. I also heard the witch now blames you and Stephanie _and_ Valerie for her grandson's sudden desire to leave his home and family in New Jersey and transfer out to the police department in Montana."

I noticed a quick glance between Stephanie and Frank and I knew there was more to the story.

"That's ridiculous!" Ellen said. "There's no such thing as the evil eye."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Edna shrugged. "But I bet that's why Joseph Morelli's mother has been keeping her distance from you." Then she turned to Stephanie and continued, "Marcella Cantori, who's lived next door to the Morelli family since before JFK was the president, told everyone down at the beauty shop that Bella forbid Angela from having further contact with the mother of the girls who she believes messed up her precious grandson's life. Well, that, and the whole fallen woman thing that Ellen's got going for her now. Old Bella sure has had a lot to say about keeping her Joseph away from our family. As far as she's concerned, we're a bunch of cursed, tainted women."

Valerie gasped as all the color drained from her face, while Stephanie turned red with anger. Ellen was no longer just sipping her wine, she was chugging it.

"If anyone is cursed and tainted, it's Joseph Morelli," Steph spat out. "He's a boil on the butt of humanity."

Mary Alice giggled and whispered to her sister, "Aunt Stephanie said 'butt' at the table."

Valerie shushed her girls and told them to keep eating.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence while Ellen digested all of this information. Then she turned back to me and asked, "Do you like being in the Army?"

"Most of the time," I answered. "But meeting Stephanie has changed my outlook on life and I have big plans for our future."

Stephanie smiled in response to my comment, as did everyone else at the table, except for Ellen.

"Plans," she echoed sadly. "It's easy to have plans when you're young. My first boyfriend, Tamás Farkas – a real _gentleman_, I might add – he died in Vietnam. It was such a tragedy. I was completely heartbroken when Tam didn't come home from the war. We'd had big plans for our future, too."

"Gentleman, my ass," Edna whispered to Wilbur, although everyone at the table could hear her quite clearly. "That Farkas boy was too much of a sissy to try anything with Ellen. I'm sorry he got killed in the war, but my Harry had more gumption in his left nut than young Tamás, God rest his soul."

"Mother!" Ellen whispered harshly. "That is _not true_ and it is _not_ appropriate! There are _children_ at the table."

"Yeah," Edna said in a slightly louder whisper, "But _these_ children just spent the last two years watching their father play 'hide the salami' with their babysitter. They know things."

"Why can't you behave like a person with some class?" Ellen retorted aloud. "Honestly!"

"Class shmass!" Edna scoffed. "I guess your shacking up with Tamás' cousin, Joseph Juniak, is classier?"

"_Shacking up_? How dare you?" Ellen's face turned even redder with indignation and she emptied and refilled her wine glass again.

"Mother! Grandma!" Valerie hissed. "Not in front of the girls!"

"Ladies, please calm down," I said, grinding my teeth in an effort to stay calm myself. Although my Babe had warned me, I could hardly believe the scene unfolding in front of my eyes. My future mother-in-law was definitely losing it and I wanted to do anything and everything I could to keep her from dragging the other women, especially Stephanie, down with her.

Ellen glared at me and said, "My mother and my daughters might have loose morals, but I'll have you know that, unlike all three of them, I have never slept with anyone other than my husband. _Ever_. And it's not because I haven't had the opportunities. Oh, no! It's because _I_ believed in the sanctity of marriage. Or at least I used to until recent events have drained all hope from me." She cradled her wine glass in both hands as she took a long sip as if that could replace the hope she said she'd lost.

"Ellen, you need to -" Frank started, but he was rudely interrupted.

"I'll tell you what I need," Ellen snapped at Frank. "I need a fresh start. No one in this family listens to me anymore. Fortunately, there's someone who does, _despite_ what you might have heard from those malicious gossips who used to be my friends down at the beauty salon. I swear, JJ and I are just friends."

"JJ?" Stephanie asked her mother.

"Joseph Juniak," Ellen replied. "We all called him JJ when we were kids. He and Tam were first cousins."

"I remember that now," Edna said. "JJ was all boy; climbing trees and playing stickball in the street. Tamás was one of those boys who sat on the porch with the girls, reading books and gossiping. That's how the two of you became such good _friends_ before Tam joined the Army." There was a world of meaning behind those words.

The older women glared at one another until Wilbur said aloud, "This is some great grub, Stephanie! Edna told me you couldn't hardly cook, so we actually ate before we came over tonight. Now I'm wishing I hadn't done that, 'cause I'd sure love to have seconds here, but I think I'd bust my gut if I did."

"Thank you, Wilbur," Steph replied, grateful for the distraction. "How about I make you up a little doggy bag to take home?" Wilbur beamed.

"Yeah, Stephanie has become a much better cook since she moved up here," Frank jumped in, happy to change the subject. "She even had some cookin' lessons from her future father-in-law. He's the one who catered her business launch party, remember?"

Ellen looked surprised and asked me, "Your _father_ was the caterer that night? Why didn't Stephanie introduce him to us then?"

"It's a long story," Steph and I answered in unison. Then we glanced at each other and grinned. It was the first bit of humor we'd had in a while.

"Oooo, I wanna hear a long story!" Mary Alice exclaimed and clapped her hands.

Frank shook his head and said, "Not now, Sweetie. It isn't exactly a fairytale-kind of story. Finish your potatoes and I'll tell you and your sister a story after dinner."

"Okay, Grandpa, that sounds good," Mary Alice agreed and she tucked her fork into her mashed potatoes.

During the rest of the meal, everyone at the table was mostly quiet. Ellen and Edna continued to glare at each other, though, until Edna finally said, "Well, Ellen, you know the longer you stay away from the beauty shop, the more people are gonna talk about you. You're still the hottest topic at the beauty shop these days. Now all the ol' biddies are saying how they could see the signs of your unhappiness all along. They're full of crap, but I wish you'd have talked to me sooner. Unfortunately, we Mazur women have a habit of staying in miserable situations far longer than we should. I mean, if you weren't happy with your life, Ellen, you could have done something about it a long time ago."

"Like what, Mother?" Ellen's voice had a bitter edge. "_Nobody_ gets divorced in the 'Burg. Nobody! You know that. Everyone just copes with whatever hand life deals them. After Tamás died, I married Frank and we had the girls and settled in the 'Burg and that was that. And just like you, I never could give my husband a son. We never moved into a nice, single family home. We never bought a car that wasn't already used. I never went to nursing school, because we never had the money. In fact, Dad died and left you with so little, you had to move in with me and my family. Now my husband has left me just because I was trying to help my daughters save their marriages, and yet despite my best efforts,_ both_ of my daughters are divorced. One has an incurable venereal disease and the other is about to marry a foreigner. And to top it all off, my widowed mother is now living in sin!" And then Ellen polished off the rest of the wine in her glass, setting it down on the table with a loud thunk.

The faces of Stephanie, Valerie and Frank all became very red in response to Ellen's complaints, but before any of them could speak up, Edna continued.

"At least Wilbur and I were totally free and unattached before we shacked up together," Edna said. "Unlike you and the police commissioner."

"How many times do I have to tell you this? I am _not_ 'shacked up' with JJ!" Ellen exclaimed, her own face now becoming red. "For God's sake, all I've ever done is cook for JJ and spent time with him. _He_ truly appreciates me."

"Hey! I appreciated you!" Frank exclaimed indignantly. "Hell, I appreciated you for the better part of almost thirty years!"

"Girls, cover your ears!" Valerie commanded. And they complied. Obviously, they'd been through this before.

"Ha!" Ellen crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant posture. "Maybe at first you did, but when was the last time you praised my roast chicken or beef or thanked me for all the chocolate cakes and pumpkin pies, Frank? I'll tell you when – Christmas of 1999, that's when. For years, all you've done is sit down at your end of the dinner table and shovel the food into your mouth with nary a thanks. Meal after meal, week after week, year after year. After you left me, JJ began to stop by the house just to check on me, usually around the time I was fixing dinner. It was only after he thanked me for a meal and a thick slice of lemon meringue pie that I realized how long it had been since _anyone_ in this family had praised my cooking."

Frank's face looked pained, but then he said, "What the hell are you talking about? You _know_ I always loved your cookin'! There was never anything wrong with your cookin', Ellen. It was your lousy advice to our daughters that turned my stomach. I told you-"

"That's enough, Frank," Ellen interrupted him. "There's no point in discussing it any further. You and I are done."

"Speaking of done, I think it's time for dessert," Stephanie suddenly spoke up to put an end to her parents' quarrel. "We've got a real treat for everyone tonight." She tilted her head toward me as a signal.

I went into the kitchen to retrieve the dessert I had picked up the previous evening while Steph was out with her girlfriends. The golden DiPaolo Brothers pineapple upside-down cake smelled sweet and delicious, but I knew I'd never eat any of it unless my Babe's body served as the plate. After I placed the cake next to Steph, she cut slices of it for our guests and then passed the plates around the table until everyone had their dessert – except for me, of course. I'd have _my_ favorite dessert later, after the dinner party ended.

"Grandma Plum, this cake is just like yours," Angie declared after finishing most of her dessert.

Mary Alice stuffed the last bit of her cake into her mouth and added, "Only it's better, 'cause Aunt Stephanie says Uncle Carlos can get it for her anytime she likes and she don't have to wait for you to make it anymore."

"She _doesn't_ have to wait," Angie corrected her little sister.

"That's what I said," Mary Alice huffed.

"Girls, stop arguing," Valerie demanded. Then she changed topics by asking, "Stephanie, have you and Carlos set a date yet?"

"Yes, we have," Steph replied. "After I got my first marriage annulled, I was able to reserve the Sacred Heart Cathedral Basilica for June 5th, 2010. Carlos and I have completed the pre-marriage classes with Father Brady there and I already have my dress!" I made a mental note to talk to Stephanie very soon about our wedding date. The fact that she already had her dress was a plus.

Valerie smiled widely and gushed, "Oh, that's so exciting!"

"But Sacred Heart is in Newark!" Ellen protested. "_Our_ church is in Trenton."

"_Your_ church is in Trenton, Mom," Steph said matter-of-factly. "The Mañoso family church is in Newark. I live up here now and since I'm becoming a member of Carlos' family, Sacred Heart is my new church home. I really like it – and so does Daddy. In fact, we've been going to church pretty regularly these days."

Ellen turned sharply and asked, "Frank, is this true? You've actually been going to church up here?"

He narrowed his eyes and replied, "Yes, it's true. Believe it or not, I really like Father Brady. He's the priest who came over to visit Carlos after he got home from the hospital. Great guy. Gives good homilies, too."

"Ain't that a pip!" Edna cackled. "Ellen gave up harassing Frank to go to church years ago. Of course, I never could get Harry to go more often than Christmas and Easter, either."

Ellen glumly stared at her half-eaten cake for a moment and then asked, "Stephanie, how in the world were you able to get your marriage to Dickie annulled so quickly?"

I wondered the same thing.

Steph sighed happily. "Carlos's father, Ricardo, knows a lot of important officials in the Catholic Church – he says they eat at his restaurant quite often. And Carlos' cousin, Mateo, who's a lawyer, helped me out a lot, too. With everything fully documented in the divorce papers, there was plenty of evidence to support that Dickie and I never actually had a real marriage. And Dickie didn't contest it. The annulment was pretty easy."

"That must be nice," Val said dreamily. "I wish I had that option."

"Wait a minute," Ellen held up a finger. "Carlos' father; this is the same man you said catered your underwear company's launch party, right?"

Steph sniffed and said, "It's _lingerie_, Mom. Very nice lingerie. And yes, Ricardo Mañoso is the owner of _Rosa's_ Cuban Restaurant in Newark. He used to be the head chef, but he recently passed that honor on to his oldest son, Alex, Carlos' brother, so he could focus on the catering side of the business. He's doing quite well."

"You can say that again," Edna chimed in. "Stephanie took me and Wilbur out to dinner there once and the food was great. Spicy and hot, just the way I like my men!" Then she leered playfully at her elderly beau.

Ellen rolled her eyes at her mother's antics then turned back to me and said in a haughty tone of voice, "So, being a _cook_, like your father and brother, wasn't good enough for you, was it? You probably thought you were being noble when you abandoned your family to go gallivanting around the world with a rifle in your hand."

I made eye contact with Steph and silently counted to ten before I simply answered, "No. I only wanted to serve my country."

"I thought Stephanie said you're a Cuban," Ellen said.

"I said _Cuban-American_, Mom, and you know it," Steph said emphatically.

"Well, I still think he looks Black," Ellen said to Stephanie before she turned to me and said, "Not that there's anything wrong with that, either. You seem to be a very … nice … man. I'm sure you're a credit to your people." Her face clearly displayed her true opinion, though.

_My people!_ Dios! No wonder my Babe and I connected on so many levels; her mother was just like my father in the worst of ways. She was a condescending, arrogant and narrow-minded woman. A bigot, actually. Ellen Plum was dismissive of anything that wasn't the way she wanted it to be. And, quite frankly, she'd just frayed my last nerve.

"Mrs. Plum," I said tightly, "The _only_ reason you're still sitting at my table and enjoying my hospitality is out of respect for the mother of the woman I plan to marry. Sadly, your behavior is not what I would consider good mothering."

Ellen began to sputter, "How dare-"

But I continued to speak, "Despite our best efforts to be gracious hosts, your rudeness here tonight has been appalling and I regret that your granddaughters have had to witness such ugliness of spirit ever since you arrived. I wish to God this had never happened, but it did. And although I've considered barring you from attending our wedding, I won't. At least, not yet."

"You have no right-" she tried again to interrupt me, but I kept going. My blood was running hot, and not in a good way. I was gripping the table legs to keep from wringing the woman's neck. Dios! It felt as though I was talking to my father the way he was before his miraculous reformation.

"This is _my_ house," I barely spoke above a growl. "And I warn you now; if you wish to have _any_ hope of a relationship with the children Stephanie and I plan to have someday, you will apologize for your behavior here tonight right now. _And_ you will refrain from such behavior in the days ahead. Is that clear?"

_Frank's POV_

Holy Mother of God! I could hardly believe my ears. I knew my argument with Ellen in front of the whole family was wrong, but when I saw the angry expression on Carlos' face, I knew we'd somehow crossed a line.

Stephanie and her wonderful fiancé had done their very best to host a nice dinner for our family, but Ellen kept sticking in her little barbs every chance she got. I'd had a lifetime of it, so I was more or less used to her snide comments and not-so-subtle-hints. Still, after Carlos issued his ultimatum, you coulda heard a pin drop.

Ellen looked stunned. No one had ever talked to her with such authority, not even me, except maybe at the end. As a dozen different emotions flowed across her face, I could tell she was struggling with her decision. On the one hand, Ellen lived for more grandchildren, but on the other hand, she wanted things to go the way _she_ thought they should go – no matter who got hurt. I think everyone at the table was holding their breath, waiting for her to speak.

Finally, Ellen said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you feel the way you do. But I definitely want to be a part of all of my current and future grandchildren's lives, so I think it'll be best if I just stop talking right now."

Carlos stared at Ellen for a few long moments. I think he realized that was the best she could do for now. His eyes gave away nothing, but he'd obviously decided to be benevolent when he slowly nodded his head twice. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and I decided to make the next move.

"You know, I think it's really great that Stephanie and Carlos took the time out to have us all over for dinner tonight. Now, I think it's time for everyone to call it a night," I said as I stood up and raised my wine glass one more time. "I'd like to make one more toast to the happy couple. May the two of you live in happiness and harmony together all the days of your life. Cheers!"

"Here, here!" Wilbur exclaimed.

"Cheers!" exclaimed everyone else and we drained our glasses, even Ellen.

Then my granddaughters asked if they could be excused from the table and Valerie told them to wash their hands and get ready to go home. After a few moments of whining about staying here longer, Angie and Mary Alice complied with Val's wishes. Wilbur helped Edna out of her chair and Ellen asked me to bring her wrap to her. I quietly told Steph that I would help her do the dishes after I walked her mother out to her car.

"Oh, Dad, there's no need for that," Steph said. "Carlos and I can handle it. But first I need to pack up a doggy bag for Grandma and Mr. Sneed." Then she shooed me into the hallway and disappeared in to the kitchen.

I took Ellen's wrap out of the hall closet and placed it around her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said, but her posture remained stiff toward me.

Carlos was standing at the front door to wish everyone a "Good Night" as they departed. Stephanie joined him with a brown paper bag in her hands, which she gave to a grinning Wilbur. Stephanie and Carlos both hugged each person warmly and Stephanie kissed everyone on the cheek. Carlos also picked up my granddaughters and twirled them around in his arms before he sent them out the door. He'd definitely won over their sweet little hearts.

When it was Ellen's turn, Carlos and Stephanie became more stiff and formal. "Thank you for inviting me over for dinner," Ellen said as she tolerated Carlos' polite embrace. "I'm sure Stephanie told you I didn't believe you existed at first."

"Yes, she did," Carlos said coolly. "But as you can see, I am real. And I intend on remaining a very real part of Stephanie's life for as long as we both shall live."

Ellen sighed. "I understand. I have to be honest and tell you I'm not exactly thrilled with the way things have worked out, but I do understand. Still, I wish things had worked out between Joseph Morel-"

"Say, 'Good Night,' Ellen," I said as I swooped in and hurried her down the front stairs and driveway before Stephanie or Carlos could either move or reply. I'd seen the fiery look in Carlos' eyes when Ellen mentioned Morelli's name. Certainly, no good would have come from the conversation that would've followed if Ellen had been able to finish her last statement. It was time for the woman to leave and take her spiteful venom away with her.

Ellen and I were silent as we rushed to her car. I waved at Edna and Wilbur as they drove off. Our granddaughters blew us air kisses as Valerie slowly pulled her car away from the curb and headed toward the community's front gate. After I opened Ellen's door for her, she slid in behind the steering wheel.

"That was … interesting," she said. "It's hard to believe our daughter plans to marry such a … _different_ kind of man, but I guess my good opinion just doesn't matter with her anymore."

"For God's sake, Ellen, give it a rest!" I exclaimed angrily. "Didn't you learn _anything_ in there tonight? Stephanie's a grown woman and she can make her own decisions. Besides, she's got Carlos now. They have each other. I'm pretty sure she doesn't need your help or your opinions anymore."

"Oh, I see how it is," Ellen sneered, "It's okay for _you_ to give Stephanie advice. And her fiancé didn't lecture _you_ or try to make _you_ apologize for acting the fool in front of the girls. That bit of spitefulness is reserved especially for me. Well, I'm not going to give up. I will do whatever it takes to know my grandchildren. Even if it kills me!"

"Maybe you _should_ give up some things, Ellen," I said. "Like your messed-up attitudes. I know I gave up a lot of my own as I got to know Carlos better. He's a good man and Stephanie is lucky to have him."

Ellen shook her head and said, "You always did give up too easily, Frank."

"I've learned to pick my battles," I retorted.

She gazed into my eyes for a long moment and finally said, "Goodbye, Frank. I suppose I'll be seeing you in court soon enough."

Then my soon-to-be-ex-wife closed her car door and started the engine. I watched Ellen's car drive away until its taillights disappeared around the corner and I realized my wife of nearly 30 years was driving out of my life. Tonight was an effective reminder of why I'd left her in the first place. I turned and went back inside Stephanie's house, where I was greeted by a very rambunctious Blackie who'd just been released from the basement. The little dog had been my shadow for months. I was going to really miss him when I moved into my own place.

"How are you doing, Daddy?" Stephanie asked as soon as I came into the kitchen. As she'd said, she and Carlos were well into cleaning up all the dirty dishes.

"I'm okay," I replied. "How're you doin'?"

"I'm feeling a little stressed," Steph sighed and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Then she came over to me and gave me a big hug. I made eye contact with Carlos and he nodded slightly. Yep, it had been a tough evening, but we'd survived it.

I just wondered how we all would survive the wedding when that day finally arrived.

_Stephanie's POV_

The evening after the not-quite-disastrous, but still very stressful, dinner with my family, I started to reach for the last piece of pizza and then looked guiltily over at Carlos. He just shook his head and chuckled. I was still shocked he'd agreed to order a pizza for dinner, but we compromised and got an all veggie pizza. It was surprisingly good.

Dad had gone down to Trenton to stay with one of his widowed Lodge cronies for the night, so Carlos and I were spending a quiet evening at home, cuddled up on the sofa watching TV. A National Geographic special on the Caribbean was the chosen fare for the night. Clip after clip of white sandy beaches and cerulean waters had me pointing and shouting every few minutes, "Look at how clear the water is. You can see all the way to the bottom of the ocean. Look, look, there's a dolphin, no, two dolphins. Can you imagine swimming with them?"

Carlos smiled patiently at my exuberance. I slumped against him, realizing how naïve I sounded. He probably had seen everything on the planet there was to see and had done just about every activity there was to do. After all, he'd served as an Army Ranger and was now a Delta Force officer. Swimming with dolphins couldn't possibly be exciting to him.

"I would prefer swimming in those clear blue waters with you, Babe. Have you ever been to the Caribbean?" Carlos asked as he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close.

"Are you kidding? Until Dawson hired me, I'd barely been out of Jersey." I waggled my head and stuck my nose in the air. "Of course, since then, I've become a world-class traveler," I joked in a mock snooty tone.

Carlos tapped my nose gently with his finger. "Would you like to add the Caribbean to your list of travel destinations?" he asked.

I twisted around so I look him in the face. He looked serious. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm asking if you'd like to visit the Caribbean."

"I'd love it! But…" I started, and Carlos kissed me – a long lingering kiss.

"That's all I needed to know," he said, a mysterious smile pulling his mouth up.

My face puckered into a frown. "You can't just leave it there," I complained. "What are you planning?"

"Our honeymoon."

Butterflies took flight in my stomach. "Our… honeymoon?" I gasped. "We're going to the Caribbean for our honeymoon?" I threw my arms around his neck and covered his face and neck with dozens of little kisses. "I love you, I love you, I love you!" More kisses followed and not the little peck kind.

After several long and sensuous kissing sessions, I finally came up for air. "When? When is our honeymoon?"

"That's something we need to talk about," Carlos said, smoothing the stray strands of my hair back from my face. "I know you reserved Sacred Heart for next June, but, Babe, I don't want to wait that long for us to be married. If we could elope tomorrow, I would be the happiest man alive."

I know my face dropped a little when he mentioned eloping. Carlos rushed to reassure me. "I know an elopement isn't in the cards. But I can't wait an entire year to make you my wife. I don't even want to wait a month. And… we don't have to."

I could feel my eyebrows lift. "A church wedding takes months and months to arrange and plan. We _have_ to get married in the Church. Your family would demand it and… I want it, too. I mean, that's part of the reason I went ahead and got the annulment – so we could marry in the Church."

He leaned into me, nipped at my ear and said, "Alright, how does June 6th sound?"

"_This_ June 6th? As in, next month June 6th?" I cried as I pulled back to look at him again.

Carlos was grinning. "That's right."

I shook my head. "But that's less than five weeks from now. Omigod! We can't possibly pull together a wedding in that amount of time. There's the church, the reception, flowers, a cake, a band…and our families…"

"We already have the church and I'm sure that my sisters will all pitch in and help with the rest of the arrangements. Besides, I have all this free time to oversee all of it. I _am_ known for my strategic planning skills," he grinned.

"How did you get the church? Are you talking about Sacred Heart or some other church?" I asked skeptically. "Because I really, _really_ have my heart set on us being married in your… our church."

Carlos looked smug. "As a matter of fact, I met with Catherine Meads, the Weddings Administrator, yesterday; I think you know her?"

I nodded.

"I explained to her my intense desire for us to be married as soon as possible, and she was very helpful. She came up with a solution that I kind of like," he continued. "How would you like to be married early in the morning instead of the usual afternoon wedding?"

"How early?" I asked. I wasn't the earliest of morning risers and getting ready for my wedding would take me several hours.

"Well, Catherine said they have two weddings scheduled that day, one at 1 p.m. and another at 5 p.m. They normally don't schedule morning events on Saturday that utilize the main church as they have an early morning Mass in Spanish at 9 a.m. But on June 6th, there will be no Spanish Mass, because Padre Santiago will be away, visiting his family back in Ecuador. _So_… Catherine pulled some strings and the church is ours if we want it. We'd have to be cleared out by 11 a.m. so the next wedding can be set up. What do you think?" He picked up my left hand and tenderly kissed my engagement ring.

I couldn't believe Carlos had been able to arrange such a deal. Everything about this felt surreal. Everything was happening so fast. Sacred Heart usually requires weddings be scheduled at least one year in advance. I was lucky to get our June 5th, 2010 reservation. I'd bet anything that Carlos sweet-talked Catherine into doing his bidding. I wouldn't blame her for succumbing to his charms. He could be very persuasive when he wanted something. That's my Superman!

How could I say no? _Omigod!_ I'm getting married next month! I'll be Mrs. Ricardo Carlos Mañoso in less than five weeks. Oh. My. God.

**TBC**


	51. Chapter 51 Chapter 135

_AN: This story has had many wonderful and talented fingers dabbling in it and this chapter is no exception. We hope you catch a glimpse of Jude's influence in the fantasy that follows. Several others offered some juicy ideas for fantasies and we thank them for sharing. As usual, pictures are posted on Flickr (the link is on our profile page)._

**CHAPTER 135**

_Stephanie's POV_

The last couple of weeks had been hectic, to say the least. Both Carlos and I were busy with work: me with the Mother's Day lingerie campaign, which was going like gangbusters; and Carlos with establishing his new security business. He had been spending a lot of time in Trenton with several of his old Army buddies who were helping him with the initial set up. Apparently, Carlos' merry band of brothers needed to find temporary office space from which to work until their own building was fully renovated and ready for occupancy.

Also, we both were busy planning our wedding. We'd divided up the tasks and I was amazed how well things were coming along. I hadn't been able to decide between my two best friends for my maid of honor, and Valerie had refused to be a part of the ceremony. She assured me it had nothing to do with me, but she just couldn't get excited about the prospect of marriage right now. Not with what had happened between her and Steve, and what was happening between our parents. So I asked _both _Mary Lou and Tina to stand up with me. Of course, technically, Mary Lou would be my Matron of Honor and Tina would be my Maid of Honor.

And it worked out well for Carlos, too, because he wanted to ask his brother Alex as his Best Man as they worked to repair their relationship. But he also wanted his best friend, Tank, to stand up with him. Then there was Bobby and Lester, and of course, Mateo.

I'd had the really big wedding party the first time I got married and I didn't want to repeat anything that would remind me of that fiasco. Back then, my mother had insisted I include several of my cousins, in addition to my own friends, to stand up with me. So, when Carlos told me he had asked his five men to be in the wedding party, that left me with five on my side. After I decided on my two maids of honor, I chose only three of my friends as bridesmaids. They all promised to be there at the crack of dawn on June 6th to help me get ready for my 9 a.m. ceremony. The rest of my close friends, as well as the Mañoso women, graciously agreed to help out in a variety of other ways at both the church and the reception.

I'd also been trying to avoid my mother. After our dismal family dinner, I didn't want to talk to Mom, much less see her, but she showed up at my office today. I was very surprised to see her and I think she even surprised herself. I gave her a tour of Books/Plum Designs, but I think she was most impressed with my beautiful office. She couldn't deny that I was a VIP anymore. But of course she didn't come to praise my business success.

No, my mother came to talk me out of getting married. She was careful not to say anything bad about Carlos; she couched her objections by saying I was rushing into marriage with a virtual stranger. I argued until I was blue in the face, all to no avail. Finally, I told her she didn't have to attend the wedding if she felt that strongly about it. That shut her up!

So, as I said, both Carlos and I were very busy, but we always made time for each other. Until this evening…

When Carlos called and told me he was checking out his office building in Trenton and he'd be late getting home, I nearly went into a tailspin. For weeks, we'd been spending every spare moment together and the thought that I might have to endure an evening without him was a shock to my system. To say I was addicted to Superman was an understatement.

I stretched out on the bed and cuddled with Blackie, luxuriating in my memories of this morning's wonderful lovemaking session with Carlos. My fiancé was definitely back up to par in that department.

The last few weeks with Carlos, now that he was pretty much healed, had been incredible: long, slow nights of sensuous, passionate lovemaking. Very different from the wild "anything goes" sex we'd had that weekend we first met. Back then we were living in the moment – enjoying a purely sexual fling – and desperately trying to deny what was happening between us; we thought we had to put a lifetime in one night, which turned out to be a glorious weekend.

Now, we were desperately in love and fully committed to a lifetime together. We made love every night and still Carlos had to have me every afternoon as soon as I walked through the front door of our townhouse. I admit I tended to have a lead foot driving home from work each day, eager to fall into Carlos' arms.

Not having him greet me today when I came home was tough. I knew Carlos was simply getting back into the swing of things and he was thoroughly enjoying establishing his new security company, but I missed the total devotion he'd given me while he was still recovering from his wounds. Not to have him here was a huge letdown, like a drug addict not getting her regular fix of smack. Maybe I should do something to spice things up and make him more eager to get home on time each evening.

I reached for my treasure chest of "Carlos Memories" and dug through the keepsakes until I found those twelve precious little slips of paper. Reading through each one brought a wicked grin to my face as I remembered the exciting roles we'd played while acting out our wildest sexual fantasies on that night that supposedly never happened. I couldn't help but smile whenever I thought back to that pivotal night that changed both of our lives forever.

Our "love life" couldn't be better, but maybe our "sex life" could do with a little shaking up. I didn't think either of us was up for another 12-condom _Anything Goes_ night, but if I surprised Carlos this next week with one fantasy a night that should be sufficient to keep him eager enough to be home waiting for me every evening. Now, to come up with a week's worth of wild sex fantasies complete with costumes. I was getting hot and bothered just thinking about it.

. . .

I opened the front door as Carlos was coming up the front steps to the townhouse. "Bonjour, Monsieur Mañoso. Bienvenue á la maison," I greeted him, taking his briefcase and keys from him as he shut the door behind him. [_Good Day, Mr. Mañoso. Welcome home._] That was about the extent of my knowledge of French, barely remembered from my high school French class.

Carlos' eyes grew huge as he took in my new look. I was decked out in the stereotypical sexy French maid's uniform. The black and white outfit had a bodice so tight and low cut if I bent over my boobs would fall out. The frilly black skirt with a tiny white apron was so short it barely covered my doodah and my legs looked great in black fishnet thigh-high stockings. I wore my hair up in a French knot that was framed by a white lace tiara and I'd let a few curly tendrils of hair escape. Silky soft white gloves were on my hands and my feet were encased in ankle-high pointy-toed black boots with four-inch heels. I looked sexy as hell!

"Babe?" he queried in an unusually gravelly voice as he stepped farther into the foyer. His eyes traveled up and down my body, and they were getting darker the longer he stared at me. My skimpy maid outfit was definitely having the impact that I'd hoped it would. This was going to be fun!

With a quick curtsey that showed off my cleavage to its best advantage, I asked, "Oui, Monsieur? S'il vous plaît, may I offer you your jacket and your pipe?"

I held up a black silk smoking jacket for him to slip into and then handed him a pipe. The pipe was empty as I really didn't want him using any tobacco, but I liked the image of my lover in a sexy jacket and 'smoking' a pipe.

Carlos played along and put the mouthpiece of the pipe between his teeth and tied the jacket belt around his waist. He looked questioningly at me, not quite sure where I was going with this little charade. Unable to keep a huge grin from splitting my face, I coyly slipped him a foil-wrapped condom with a slip of paper folded around it. Then I picked up a pink feather duster and flounced into the living room to "dust" the furniture.

I heard a prolonged chuckle as Carlos read what I'd written on the slip of paper. _"You are a debonair playboy who has the hots for his shy French maid and you absolutely must have your 'dirty' way with her. Sweep her off her feet and don't let the dust settle. Let the seduction begin."_

While I continued waving my faux feather duster around, my Cuban playboy came over to the sidebar I'd set up in the living room. There was a silver tray with a martini glass, a metal shaker, a bucket of ice, a jar of green olives, a bottle of dry vermouth and an ice-cold bottle of Vox vodka. I didn't know if Carlos drank martinis, but it seemed like the debonair playboy thing to drink. Did someone say Bond?

In an affected French accent, I said, "I wasn't sure if you liked your martinis shaken or stirred, Monsieur."

"I prefer mine shaken," he replied. "And you have shaken things up nicely, Babe… or should I call you _Babette_?" I couldn't help giggling and had to turn away and pretend to flick imaginary dust particles off the fireplace mantle.

Carlos filled the shaker with ice and then poured in a healthy measure of vodka. As he gently shook the vodka to ice it down, I bent over from the waist and dusted the white tiles in front of the fireplace giving him a good view of my exposed derriére. I was wearing a barely-there pair of lacy white bikini panties and knew my ass looked spectacular. An audible groan sounded from across the room, overshadowed by the sound of ice sloshing around in the metal shaker. Carlos let a few drops of vermouth coat the martini glass before he added two olives and then poured in the iced vodka. Bringing his pipe and his martini, Carlos walked over to the easy chair he seemed to prefer and sat down. I had placed today's Wall Street Journal on the end table, but I hoped that I was much more interesting than any stock tip in a newspaper.

I dusted the furniture making sure I stayed in Carlos' line of vision giving him ample views of my cleavage or my ass cheeks depending on what item I was cleaning. He sipped his drink and stared at me, a faint smile touching his lips. His beautiful brown eyes never left my form and I was getting aroused knowing he was undressing me with his eyes.

We continued the "act" for several minutes before Carlos – _ahem_, Monsieur Mañoso – got up and turned on the stereo. With his penchant for classical music, I was surprised when the slow soft jazz strains of _Corcovado_ began. The woman singing the words had a distinctly feminine, yet sultry voice and the man sang in Spanish. His voice didn't have the same appeal for me that Carlos' did, but the sound of Spanish being sung was extremely alluring. All in all, very conducive to seduction.

I knew the sex would be better the longer we played the teasing game; Carlos had taught me that, but I was not good at waiting. I never had been. I wanted him now. I moved closer until I was standing next to his chair and flicked my duster over the side table. I longed for him to pull me down on his lap, but he seemed content to watch me and sip his martini. Damn that martini!

"Is that drink quenching your thirst?" I asked, hoping he'd say 'no.'

"I'm enjoying it. Very smooth," he responded. "I'm also enjoying the show. Very entertaining!" He plucked an olive from the glass and popped it into his mouth and then took another sip of his martini, his eyes boring into mine over the rim of the glass.

I giggled to myself as I thought about putting an olive or two in the spot _I_ wanted Carlos to sip from, and it wasn't his damn martini. A year ago I would never have even allowed that crude thought to cross my mind, but since I'd met Carlos, he'd unleashed my inner slut. So, why not? Carlos had encouraged me to go for what I wanted and I wanted _him_. I wanted him to touch me, to kiss me, to eat me… to fuck me.

Putting a righteous swagger into my hips, I sashayed over to the sidebar and picked up the jar of green olives. I couldn't believe I was really going to do this. Carlos was still staring at me, a puzzled look on his face. Embarrassed, I started to put the jar down and then thought, one quick unscrewing of a jar lid and I will be assured of one long screwing from a jarhead. Well, not really a jarhead as Carlos wasn't a Marine, but the play on words made me smile.

I picked one large olive out of the jar and moved over to the ottoman. Locking my eyes on Carlos', I planted one dainty boot on the ottoman and lowered my right hand, the olive clearly visible between my thumb and forefinger. Carlos' eyes were riveted to my fingers. I dipped my hand underneath my little skirt and saw my playboy lick his lips. When I brought my fingers out from under the skirt and held up my hand, I wiggled my olive-free fingers. I felt wicked and also silly. What if it turned him off? I needn't have worried. Carlos swallowed – hard – and cut his eyes to mine, a hungry look on his face. I'd finally taken his mind off that damn martini.

Carlos was up and out of his chair in a flash. He grabbed me from behind and pulled me up tight, my ass pressed firmly against his growing erection. As he nuzzled my neck, he uttered, "Dios, what are trying to do to me? I was planning on a long slow seduction, but you just kicked things into high gear! You are so unpredictable and I find that sexy as hell, my beautiful… Babette."

He turned me around and, cupping my face in his hands, kissed me softly. His thumbs lightly brushed across my cheeks as he gazed into my eyes. Another soft kiss as his hands unleashed my hair from its confines. I inhaled his scent, a light clean fragrance mixed with his own masculine scent that never failed to arouse me. His touch, his scent, his kisses, the sultry music – all combined to discombobulate me.

It took a moment for me to remember I was playing a role, and as his maid I should be outraged by his actions. I protested, "_But Monsieur_, I am your _maid_. We should not be doing this… this naughty thing." My words voiced objection, but my body stayed pressed up close against his sexy hard frame.

Carlos whispered in my ear, "Babette, this is exactly what we should be doing. I've wanted to kiss you from the very first moment that… I hired you." He let his hands roam all over my body as he kissed me again, not so softly this time.

Again, I didn't push away, but I protested – a little. "But that's just the problem, Monsieur. _You hired me!_ You hired me to take care of your house, not to take care of… oh, ooh… oooh, Monsieur!" He had reached under my skirt and let his hands slide over my ass and then my fishnet-covered thighs, groaning his pleasure. To my delight, his fingers soon found their way to exactly where I wanted them to be and I started making little panting gasps as Carlos stroked me through my lace panties.

"Ma petite chérie, you are so wet. It's good I only like my martinis dry. And I can't wait to taste that olive."

My cheeks grew as warm as my pussy, but his words only emboldened me. I looked up at him and batted my eyelashes, channeling my sexiest French accent, "I am always wet when I'm near you, Monsieur Mañoso." _Jeez, how corny can I get_?

His eyes widened a bit and he blew out a breath. I was getting into the spirit of the game and so was he. "Good to know," he chuckled. "Could save a lot of time in certain circumstances."

"Oh, Monsieur, you are so wicked." And I hoped he would get really wicked with me very soon.

"You have no idea, ma minette." [_my pussycat_]

How appropriate! I could feel his strong fingers stroking my pussy through the lace and when he found my clit, I gave out a gasp. "THERE! Right there. Oh Monsieur, if you keep rubbing that exact spot, I promise I will do more than just get wet for you," I murmured happily.

He chuckled again and kept up the gentle pressure as he rubbed his thumb over my clit. "_OMIGOD! That feels sooooo good._" Even through my panties it felt heavenly, but under such a delicious onslaught I would soon be so far gone I wouldn't be able to stand up. Of course, Carlos never let that stop him. He wrapped one arm around my waist and slid his fingers underneath my panties.

"Christ, you're so hot and wet, I can't wait to suck you dry." _Gulp!_ His voice had lowered into that husky growl that told me he was really turned on. "But first I want to hear those sexy whimpers that tell me you're right on the edge, Babe… Babette."

He knew me so well. His fingers found my clit again and he had me writhing in seconds. My moans changed to whimpers as the heat built up in my lower half. I was so close to cumming.

"Omigod!" I wailed, "Ooooooh, oooohhh, Monsieur, oohhhhh!" The unbelievable ache in my nether regions was hot and a little scary in its intensity. My hips twisted back and forth under the unrelenting and oh so welcome onslaught of his magic fingers, but he held me in place and continued to stroke and tease me. "I need-"

"You need what, mon amour?" he whispered as he played games with my slippery slit. My Cuban lover was relentless in his pursuit of my orgasm. I felt his fingers move a little until his index finger settled on my clit, then for the next few minutes he devoted himself to that… one… tiny… spot, that one little organ that could give me the ultimate pleasure.

But I was also aching with the need for his huge hard cock. "I need you inside me."

"Soon, ma chère. Soon. We have all night for many kinds of pleasure, no?"

"_Si. Oui. Yes_, dammit, but I need to cum now," I cried, placing my hand on top of his and grinding it against my mound.

"Impatient little minx, aren't you?" Carlos quipped, but he stopped the enjoyable soft clit rubs and began a series of light rapid flicks that alternated between pleasure and pain. My breath started coming in sharp gasps until I was close to hyperventilating. Suddenly, he pressed my clit between his thumb and forefinger. _OMIGOD_! The brief flash of pain sent me sailing over the edge and I let out a high-pitched scream. The sensation was so overwhelming I couldn't even form words.

I was in heaven. The waves kept coming as my pussy contracted again and again. I let Carlos support me as I sank into him, unable to stand on my own two feet as my orgasm continued. He kissed my neck and gently bit down, sucking my flesh into his mouth. I felt a sharp tingle and then his tongue laved the area, cooling the sting. "My name, Babette. Next time, I want to hear you call out my name."

_Next time? _I wasn't even finished with my first orgasm and he was ready for number two. His fingers started stroking me all over again. Boy, oh boy, I was one lucky maid! He found my nub, now swollen and tender, but he avoided touching it directly and instead massaged it between my engorged pussy lips.

I was finding it harder and harder to remember I was supposed to be playing the role of his French maid. Gasping with pleasure, I haltingly told him, "Monsieur… I am only a…(gasp) lowly maid. I cannot possibly call you…(gasp) by your given name."

"Ma belle, I certainly don't want to hear you to scream out _Monsieur Mañoso_." His fingers maintained their pressure on my pleasure center and I could feel the heat building again. I'd had no time to come down and my second orgasm was close.

Without warning, he slid his fingers inside my slit and flicked his dry thumb directly across my clit and, immediately, I saw a bright flash of light and another orgasm hit. My contractions were so strong I probably mashed the poor little olive into a cum-flavored tapenade. I didn't think once, much less twice as I screamed out, "Carrrlos!"

Before my orgasm had quieted down, Carlos whisked me to the sofa and covered my body with his. He held himself a fraction above me and, with a hungry look, watched my face as the last throes of my second orgasm wound down.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he whispered, "You are so beautiful when you cum. The flush starts here…" his hands stroked the top of my breasts that threatened to pop out of my bodice, "and it moves up your throat and settles in your cheeks." His lips skimmed my hot flushed skin, traveling the same path as my orgasmic blushes. "Let's try for number three," he whispered.

"Three?" I gasped, my voice hoarse with passion. "Only if I cum as a result of your long hard cock deep inside me driving me crazy."

"_Babette?_" he said in mock surprise. "Are you suggesting that I…_that we_…?" He looked at me with one eyebrow raised quizzically, a smirk pulling the corners of his mouth up.

I blushed furiously. I was supposed to be a modest virginal maid and here I was asking to be fucked instead of waiting to be seduced by my playboy boss.

I hedged, "It is just that you overwhelmed me with your considerable skills at pleasuring a woman with your magic fingers that I could not but help imagine how skilled you must be with…" I feigned modesty and lowered my eyes. With his body on top of mine I couldn't see his cock, but I could feel its hard length pressed against me.

Mr. Playboy also feigned his reaction. "Babette, are you tired of my hands? You tell me I have magic fingers and they seem to have done the job – _twice_."

"Your magic fingers pleased me immensely, but that only whet my appetite for the rest of you," I admitted, licking my lips. On impulse, I pulled his face to mine and sucked his lower lip into my mouth, biting down on it. With a growl, he let his body sink down and press me into the cushions, his body heat seeping into me. He countered my intense kiss with an equally forceful one. Carlos' kisses always left me breathless.

His hands were still doing their magic thing and I moaned as his fingers stroked and teased me through the lacy cotton of my panties. I tingled in anticipation and then felt rather than heard my panties being ripped. _Good thing I worked for a lingerie company. _Carlos left me or rather he slid down my body until his head was poised directly over my crotch. Our eyes met and his mouth spread in a wide grin as he announced, "Now, for my second drink of the evening, and to taste that deliciously marinated olive."

Oh, boy! My vaginal muscles contracted at the delicious thoughts his words conjured and I could hear the arousal in his voice. He was enjoying this as much as I was.

His hands stroked my inner thighs and, eager to give him the best possible access, I spread my legs as he sank between them. His magic fingers had nothing over his magic mouth. His licks and kisses left me hotter and wetter than ever. Jeez, my man sure knew how to drive me wild with horniness. He nibbled, licked and sucked everywhere – except where I really needed him to. I was hot and wet and aching for a good fuck. Whatever he was doing felt wonderful, but I wanted an orgasm and I wanted it now.

"Carrrlos…" I pleaded. "You know what I want. You know exactly what I want," I groaned, helplessly.

"Remember, _Babette_, I'm _Monsieur Mañoso_. This is our _first_ time together, so you're going to have to tell me what you want me to do to you," he uttered, barely rising from his heady oral ministrations.

Desperate for even more, I cried out, "I want _everything_."

Carlos' fingers moved down, all the way to my tightly clenched, puckered hole, rubbing his thumb lightly over it. A flash of fear shot through me as his fingers continued to stroke what I considered to be off-limits. My mind screamed at me to wriggle away from him, but my body… my weak, turned-on body wanted more of his tingly light touch that only increased my desire to be fucked.

"I want you to touch me," I whispered, more turned on than I could imagine, "I want you to touch me right there." And he did! My cheeks were burning, but I couldn't help myself. I never imagined I could find any touch _there_ to feel so good. "More! I want more; stroke me, lick me." And again, he did! "Oh, Carlos!"

It felt so good, too good. His gentle strokes turned to firm rubs and when they centered directly over ground zero, he increased the pressure until the sensual sensations became too much for me. I immediately tensed and a flash of fear shot through me and I knew I wasn't ready for… that. Not yet. I felt Carlos stop and start to raise his head. "Babe?" I didn't want him to stop completely, just redirect his energies.

"My clit! I need you to touch my clit. Please… take it into your mouth and suck on it. I want you to play with my pussy while you run your tongue over my clit and make me crazy-ready to fuck you. I want you to tease me and torment me until I feel like I'm going to lose my mind if I can't have you inside me." He did all that and more!

I was moaning and whimpering and writhing under his sensual maddening touch and then I groaned as it suddenly stopped. Carlos had raised his head and murmured, "Then what do you want?" His voice was heavy with lust and his cock was now rock hard, pressed against my thigh.

I'd been soooo close! "Enough with the 20 questions! Fuck me, dammit! Fuck me now!"

That smug smirk appeared again. "Tell me nicely, my sweet little Babette, or all this stops."

Mr. Debonair Playboy wasn't going to give me my orgasm unless I played _his game_, his way. "Okay, okay!" I capitulated and went with the flow, and believe me I was flowing freely from all of Carlos' stimulating, um… contact. When I cried out, "I want you to fuck me over and over and never stop. I want you so far inside me that I feel you everywhere. And I want it NOW!" it was the truth. I was more than ready for my lover's cock to be thrust inside me, fucking me over and over again.

His brown eyes were nearly black with desire as he kissed my belly. But as aroused as he clearly was, my lover was still bent on a slow seduction. After each kiss – _he moved a tiny bit lower with each kiss_ – he answered me, one word at a time. _"I"_ kiss _"Want"_ kiss _"To_" kiss _"Fuck"_ kiss_ "You" _kiss _"too,"_ _"But_" kiss _"You'll_" kiss _"Have_" kiss _"To"_ kiss _"Wait"_ kiss_._

_Crap!_

He lifted his head and murmured, "I'm enjoying this too much and…" he grinned, "I'm very hungry."

Oh, boy! Carlos was _verrry_ good at eating when he was hungry… for me!

I watched his head dip below the horizon and felt his mouth questing farther downward. His lips kissed and nuzzled my soft spots, separating and dipping lower and deeper. And then his tongue was inside me sending shivers of delight through my lower region. All of a sudden, I felt an incredible suction. I looked up in time to see a triumphant Carlos holding an intact olive between his lips. _OMIGOD! He actually did it!_ And he was being so smug about his accomplishment. Gazing directly into my eyes, he smiled and then there was a "_pop,_" and the olive disappeared into his mouth. Chewing and humming in pleasure, he said, "Délicieux, tres bon, ma petite chérie."

I couldn't believe he really did that! He was still playing the game of a handsome, urbane playboy. Okay, so now it was time for the real show to begin. I was going to get fucked by a well-hung, pleasure-seeking albeit smug rogue. _Lucky me!_ Scooting down the sofa, I wrapped my legs around Carlos' torso, eagerly waiting for him to slide his massive cock inside me.

"Ooh, Monsieur, you look so handsome dressed in your smoking jacket. Now, hurry up and dress your XXXL cock in that little transparent number I gave you earlier. You can give me my maid's paycheck in long, deep strokes from your long, hard cock," I cooed, trying to sound as French as I could while I rubbed my very eager pussy against his very hard erection.

Carlos grinned, whether he was amused by my terrible French accent or my obvious attempt to get fucked I wasn't sure. But when he pulled out of my tight leg embrace, I wailed, "_Nooo_, don't go! I need you inside me…NOW!"

He stood up and held out his hands to me. In a silky smooth voice, he said, "My dear sweet Babette, I need to be inside you, too, but…" he pulled me up and let his hands drop to my butt, "watching you bend over in that hot little skirt, your long legs encased in these _fuck me_ fishnet stockings," he rubbed his hands over my upper thighs, "makes me so hot for you, but… I want to take you… from behind."

My mouth dropped opened and he held up his hand. "Not in the ass, Babe. I still want to fuck your delicious pussy, but just go in from the back instead of from the front. Let me bend you over the sofa, lift your sexy little maid's skirt over your gorgeous ass and…" his voice trailed off as his fondling of my ass cheeks got more vigorous.

His wildly arousing massage of my derriére combined with his hot breath and nuzzling of my neck was making me dizzy. I needed him inside me so much I was ready to scream, but I still had this fear of _butt stuff_ leftover from my ass-fucking asshole of an ex, Dickie Orr. Carlos had asked me to do it doggie style once before and true to his word, he didn't try anything else. Carlos had never taken advantage of me or done anything to me that I hadn't wanted him to. I trusted him, I really did, and I needed to trust him now.

I took a deep breath and slowly nodded. Carlos' hands moved up my back until he was holding me tightly against his chest. He leaned down and his lips sought out mine. Nobody had ever kissed me like Carlos could. His tongue swept across my lower lip and the kissing skyrocketed to incendiary. I was still tingly down below from all his kisses and caresses and now, with his tongue in my mouth and his arms wrapped tightly around me, if he had asked me for butt stuff right then, I'd have moaned, "Yes!"

Carlos cupped my face in both his hands and, after kissing my lips, my cheeks, my forehead and the tip of my nose, he whispered, "Babe, je t'aime, _I love you_."

I whispered back, "I love you, too, Superman." And it had never been truer. Taking another deep breath, I turned and leaned over the back of the sofa. Telling myself I was going to enjoy this, I arched and wiggled my French maid derriére in invitation.

I was expecting a hard, fast and furious fucking, but my playboy continued with his slow seduction. His hands started at the back of my neck, lightly massaging my muscles, moving down to my shoulders and then my back. His hands were strong and sure, but the pressure he applied was gentle and relaxing, putting me at ease. By the time he reached my hips, I was actually eager for him again.

I felt my skirt being flipped back over my bare butt and his hands caressed my cheeks and then they moved lower as he fondled my fishnet-covered thighs. My breathing quickened and so did his. Touching me gently, his hands slid back over my ass cheeks and then his fingers lightly stroked my pussy lips, opening them up, making me wet all over.

He broke contact for just a moment while he put on the condom and then I felt his length stroking between my legs. I couldn't wait for him to bury himself deep inside me. He thrust forward playing with my slit, teasing it, tantalizing it before finally he ever-so-tenderly slipped the head of his cock into my hot wet pussy. _Omigod, it felt so good!_

He pushed in, but only a few inches, before pulling out completely and resuming his stroking against my slit. I groaned, hating that empty feeling. Then he slid in again, but after a few short inches, he removed his length and began to rub it against my slit.

"You're driving me crazy," I whimpered.

"Just stirring the martini," he quipped, "or would you prefer I shake it?"

_Smart ass!_ "I'm fucking _aching_ for _all_ of your cock and you're being stingy."

"Stingy?" he retorted, and that's when I finally got what I'd been yearning for: all 11 magnificent hard inches thrusting into my pussy, over and over and over again. "Is that what you want, my horny little maid?" he gasped, between thrusts. His hands cupped my ass cheeks and he squeezed them, "Dios, I love to watch your ass move as I ride you, Babe." And I loved him riding me!

And he continued, pumping his length into me deeper and deeper, bringing me to a fever pitch of quivering aching hot raw desire.

"YES!" I screamed and ground my ass into him, delighting in the feel of him as he filled me completely. Hearing his hoarse cries of pleasure as he thrust even faster, pushed me to new heights and I wanted him to lose himself in me, lose his normally tight control and let go. I matched him, thrust for thrust, pushing back onto his shaft trying to take every last inch of him. He thrust harder and deeper with every stroke. "God, that's just the way I need it! Don't stop!" I cried.

"I can't stop," he admitted gutturally; his mouth hung open as his breath came in rapid pants. "Fuck, Babe! You're so tight! It feels like heaven!" Then his right hand slid down from my hip and he focused on torturing my clit with his thumb and his index finger. He stroked as I bucked underneath him, and his cock now pistoned into me furiously. The overwhelming sensations from the electric friction of his fingers on my clit and his cock in my vagina had me reeling.

"Omigod! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" I cried, nearly blacking out when he squeezed my clit, and my third orgasm shattered me.

The last thing I remember was his cry of release… then there was a bright flash of light… and I knew no more.

_Carlos' POV_

I don't know what possessed Stephanie this week, but I thanked my lucky stars for her unpredictability. She was a walking, talking sex fantasy. Every evening when I came home she was waiting for me, dressed up in some incredibly sexy outfit that I couldn't wait to tear off of her. I always stretched the game out as long as I could, knowing Steph would get so hot for me, she would be an absolute dynamo. And she never disappointed!

I'd kept the slips of paper she written each fantasy on, just like we'd done that first night, the night that never happened. The first one took me completely by surprise: a French maid and her playboy boss. One look at her white panty-clad ass and I knew I had to have her doggie style. Steph wasn't fond of that particular position, but she let me have my way and I think she enjoyed it. I _know_ I did!

The next night, when I came home there was a box in front of the door. In the box was a tool belt, a plumber's cap and a plunger, along with a condom wrapped with a slip of paper. The paper read: _"You are an expert plumber called to fix a clogged pipe at the home of a bored 'lady of the house.' Butt crack is not optional and neither is your 11 inches of Roto Rooter."_

Shaking my head and grinning, I donned the tool belt and cap and pulled my pants down over my hips. I rang the doorbell and Stephanie opened the front door dressed in a slinky, sexy black negligee and see-thru peignoir. She had the affected look of a rich, bored housewife, though she still looked eminently fuckable. I was hard the moment I saw her. Needless to say, I cleared her clogged pipes in record time.

Then there was the Drill Sergeant and the private. And yes, I was the private, first class. We both had a set of camo fatigues to wear; I went commando, of course. _"Atten-hut! I'm an Army Drill Sergeant and you are my worthless recruit who needs a fuckin' heap of basic training. Drop and gimme twenty, you worthless maggot!_"

I almost believed Stephanie had gone through Basic or shadowed a real Drill Sergeant. I couldn't believe the colorful language and inventive expletives she came up with. I had a sore tongue from biting it so often so I wouldn't laugh. She really put me through my paces. But once we got in the trenches, she was unlike any Sergeant I'd ever grappled with. And so much more fun! If all Drill Sergeants were like her, men of all ages would be lining up to join the Army.

On the fourth night, Steph surprised even me. My Wonder Woman had put a rinse in her hair, turning it black and she straightened it so that it draped seductively around her shoulders, back and front. With the long black hair framing her face and neck, her porcelain skin practically glowed white. She was wearing a long tight-fitting black dress that clung to all her beautiful curves. When she walked, she did so in a mincing step as if the hem of the dress was too tight to stride normally. She maintained a somber look so unlike her naturally smiling self.

She had me wear a black pin-striped jacket and gave me a Cuban cigar. However, I refused to glue the cheesy black mustache to my upper lip. This time, the condom was wrapped with a strip of paper that read: _"You are the ever-romantic Gomez Addams driving the ever-serious Morticia Addams wild with your Spanish-speaking endearments and your hard-thrusting endowments. Querida!"_

That was quite a night! Stephanie truly gets turned on when I speak only Spanish to her. I had a ball and Steph had mine: in her hands and in her soft delicate mouth. _Dios, what that woman and her mouth could do to me. And my balls!_

There was one fantasy where I hated my costume, though I loved Steph's. She was wearing a very creative skimpy bikini in the form of a dolphin wrapped around her breasts and ass. When she handed me my bathing suit, what there was of it, I almost backed out. The strip of paper told me my role: _"You are a cabana boy paid to serve the wealthy women who visit the resort spa. One very demanding customer has asked for you specifically and expects you to service her every whim, wish, urge or craving. Be prepared to work very hard, and I do mean hard, for your generous tip."_

My entire costume was one very tiny black Speedo that could not contain my penis when it was soft, let alone when it was fully erect. But I would never let my Wonder Woman down, so I sucked in my pride and squeezed myself into the confining garment. I wasn't modest, I just didn't like wearing such restrictive, ridiculous looking crap. I was uncomfortable all the way up to the time I could finally take the suit off and 'service' my wonderfully demanding client, and demanding she was. But when I was done servicing her she was wearing a very satisfied smile and she was unable to move for the next hour.

When I held out my hand for my tip, she said she had another kind of tip in mind. Pulling me close, she rewarded me by taking my tip deep into her mouth, again and again. That kind of tender currency is considered illegal in many states, but I wasn't complaining. My last cabana boy act was to bring her an ice-cold mojito before Blackie and I went out to the backyard to burn the offending Speedo.

There were many more nights of highly enjoyable fantasies such as, "_You are a Mayan guard who has fallen in love with a Vestal virgin who is to be sacrificed to the Volcano God tomorrow. One night of sex could bring death to you...so you make the best of it_."

Or the one that had the surprise ending:_ "You are an over-zealous missionary coming to the door of a lost housewife hoping to show her the 'the way,' but the tables are turned when the very learned housewife leads the celibate proselytizer to 'the true path to happiness'." _

But my favorite was the one that started with that magical strip of paper that said,

_"When was the last time you had mind-blowing, body-shattering, red-hot, lustful, animalistic, primitive, savage, totally unplanned, spontaneous-combustion-type, slam-against-the-wall, scream-out-in-ecstasy, curl-your-toes, shoot-to-the-moon SEX?" _That fantasy came with a tin of smoked oysters and nothing else.

Stephanie had an endless supply of fantasies cooked up and I was more than ready to add to her list, but we put them on hold for a while, deciding to do one a month, just to keep things interesting. Of course, all bets were off for our honeymoon!

**TBC**


	52. Chapter 52 Chapter 136

**CHAPTER 136**

_Stephanie's POV_

"**No!**" I nearly shouted, trying to inject as much vehemence as I could muster into that one word. It wasn't having the squelching effect I wanted.

"But Stevie…" Tina whined, "It will be _soooo_ much fun. I promise, it will be high class. No Drew Carey lookalikes. Trust me, I'll do the selection myself. Only Top Shelf guys, all the way." She was sitting at one end of my sofa with her legs tucked up under her, and Mary Lou was slouched at the other end. I was sprawled across the overstuffed easy chair with Blackie curled up by my side.

"NO! No strippers for my bachelorette party." I shook my head emphatically and took a sip from the bottle of water I'd been nursing.

Some secret exchange occurred between Tina and Mary Lou and then Mary Lou leaned forward and tried another tack: guilt. "How can you deny _me_, your best friend – your _married_ best friend – the only chance I'll ever have to see another man's package?"

I let out a snort, spewing drops of water over Blackie and myself. "Nice try, Mare, but I'm not buying it. I know for a fact that Lenny offers to strip for you every Friday night after his boys' night out." Mary Lou just rolled her eyes. I guess her hubby's alcohol-induced striptease wasn't one of his better talents.

I picked up my cell phone off of the end table and pulled up a picture of Carlos with his shirt off. Holding my phone up so they could both see, I gave them my ultimatum, "I've already had the best," I grinned. "I don't need to see the rest. No strippers!"

They both leaned forward and their eyes widened as they took in the magnificent sight of my fiancé in all his shirtless grandeur. But when they sat back, Tina was pouting and even Mary Lou seemed a little disappointed about my decision. I really wasn't in any mood to sit through a male stripper show when there was only one guy I wanted to see take it all off. And I didn't want to share that amazing performance with a half dozen or more of my best friends, though I had no doubt each and every one of them would kill to see Carlos strip. _Hmmmm_, Carlos stripping… maybe that could be our next fantasy date?

It was time I played my trump card. "How about we go in an entirely different direction for my bachelorette party?"

That only got another eye roll from my friends and a snide comment from Tina. "If you suggest an 'exciting' evening of bowling, I'm gonna mutiny."

"No, not bowling, but… what about a spa day?" I suggested, seeing a slight brightening in my friends' faces. I knew my next statement would widen their smiles considerably.

"Carlos' grandmother has offered to foot the bill for a day in the City for me and all my bridesmaids. She loves going to Elizabeth Arden's Red Door Spa on Fifth Avenue and she has sprung for their Iconic Red Door Treatment for all of us!"

Tina screamed and Mary Lou's jaw dropped. "The Red Door is _famous_ for its massages. Do we get massages?" Tina pleaded.

"Yep. We get their signature massages and facials – plus, a mani and pedi, and a shampoo and blow dry, _and_ make-up – for all of us!"

"_Woo hoo!"_ Tina jumped off the couch and pumped the air several times. Mary Lou was still speechless.

"And, to put the finishing touches on the day, Dawson has reserved rooms for us at…" I did a finger drum roll on the edge of the coffee table, "…The Plaza!"

Mary Lou finally found her voice. "THE Plaza? _Omigod_, I've always wanted to stay there, but could never afford it." She clapped her hands several times in her excitement. "My kids love watching 'Eloise at the Plaza' and truth be told, so do I. The place is _soooo_ luxurious it doesn't even look like a hotel, at least none of the hotels I've ever stayed in."

I nodded, just as tickled as they were. "Dawson also said he wanted us to have a really great time so he threw in reservations at The Plaza's famous Afternoon Tea in the Palm Court restaurant and Eloise's Breakfast the following morning, as well as limo service that evening that will take us to Manhattan's hottest new nightclub, the Pink Elephant."

"You've got to be kidding?" Tina cried, her hands holding the top of her head as if it were about to burst.

"I know it's not what you were hoping for – no strippers, no bar hopping, no drunken reverie – but I'm just not in the mood for that stuff. Not since I met Carlos. We'll still have a great time pampering ourselves and living in luxury and then we'll have a night of dancing and riding around Manhattan in a snazzy limo."

"What do you mean, _'not what we were hoping for'_? Stevie, this is so far beyond what I could hope for. I couldn't even begin to give you such a fabulous bachelorette party. This will be a trip of a lifetime. We'll be talking about this party for years."

Tina hugged me and then ran out to the kitchen, yelling over her shoulder, "This deserves a toast." She returned with three cans of coke, handing one to Mary Lou and one to me. At my look of surprise, Tina explained, "By the way, you're out of beer."

Mary Lou popped the top and raised her soda, "To a legendary bachelorette party!" Tina and I clinked cans with Mary Lou and repeated Mare's toast before taking a long swig. I couldn't wait to tell the rest of the gang. This event would bury all memories of poor Stella's pathetic bachelorette party for good and Stella would be the first to celebrate.

_Carlos' POV_

I certainly hoped Stephanie was having a better time at her bachelorette party than she had at the one where I had met her. I was pleased she hadn't wanted a stripper to perform for her and her friends, not that I would be threatened if she had. I made sure Steph was well satisfied in that department and if she ever wanted a stripper, I imagine I could oblige her. And knowing my Babe, she would "tip" me very well, in a way other male strippers could only dream of.

My buddies were planning my bachelor party, and they told me there would definitely be strippers. I didn't fight it. I knew the women would be there for the other guys, not for me. I had no interest in other women; I hadn't even looked at another woman _that way_ since I met Stephanie. No woman could ever top my Babe.

Take last Saturday… it had rained all day and power outages had blackened a good portion of town. I came home to a darkened house lit only with a few flickering candles. As I entered the dimly lit foyer I was greeted by a very unexpected hostess: Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Steph looked fabulous in Goth makeup and a gauzy black gown that hugged her incredible curves. Her black wig made her porcelain skin practically glow. And she had a campy "Elvira" monologue all planned out that nearly had me rolling on the floor.

Steph kept up a constant comical banter and it took us forever to get around to having sex because we were both laughing so hard. I couldn't believe I could be so turned on and yet laugh so much. She tried to bite my neck to "suck my _blooood_," but I was horny as hell and finally convinced her to suck on another part of my anatomy. That was a trip unto itself, watching "Elvira" and her ratted-up wig bob up and down on my cock. When I went to rip her tattered gown off her luscious body, Steph protested. She wanted to save the outrageous outfit for Halloween. My Babe sure loves dressing up for Halloween. I lay back on our bed and watched her do a sexy striptease for me as she carefully peeled the black gauze from her milky white skin. After she hung the filmy dress in the closet, she was ready for some blood-curdling kisses and my own version of vampire bites. It was a dark and stormy night… to remember.

But right now, I was focusing on making arrangements for our wedding. Stephanie had definitely been busy during the time I'd been overseas. She had cut out pictures from magazines and downloaded webpages that highlighted what she wanted for our wedding. She had given me an excellent blueprint to work from. I would do my best to honor her choices while adding my own touches to that special day that couldn't come fast enough for me.

I had met with my sisters earlier and given them their assignments for the wedding. They were thrilled to be asked to be part of the planning and I was grateful for their assistance. I gave them their marching orders and I made it clear they were to follow my orders to a T. This was Stephanie's and my wedding and it would reflect our tastes, not our families'.

The Mañoso name and _Rosa's_ well-known reputation helped garner a quick response from many Newark businesses and with only a few weeks left, we needed that edge. DiPaolo Bros promised to deliver an eight-tiered wedding cake based on a picture Steph had clipped out. She also had photos of the type of flowers she wanted for her bridal bouquet and for the rest of the wedding party. I was surprised she had selected a very plain white calla lily spray for her bouquet and for my boutonnière, and more delicate white lilies for the corsages for our mothers and grandmothers. The simple yet elegant arrangements represented my tastes as well and I selected several matching floral displays of my own to help set the mood at the church. I had already established a business relationship with a local florist when I'd ordered those 18 months of flowers to be delivered to Steph during my absence, so it was a simple matter to add the wedding flowers to my standing order.

Steph had expressed a desire to have me in full dress uniform for the wedding ceremony. I liked that idea and when I asked my Army buddies to stand up with me, I asked them to come similarly attired. I didn't often wear a military uniform, but for this momentous occasion I would gladly make an exception. And as a surprise for Stephanie, I had consulted with Catherine Meads to allow my buddies to perform an Arch of Sabers as I walked hand in hand with my new bride out of the church. However, for the reception, the men, including myself, would change into black tuxedos. But that wasn't the only surprise I had planned for Stephanie. I couldn't wait to see her look of joy when our transportation pulled up at the church steps to take us to the reception.

My bride also wanted to include a patriotic theme to honor my military service, so I gave Celia that assignment: subtly add some red, white and blue items throughout the wedding and reception. I knew Maria loved the fluff stuff, so I asked her to come up with something for guests to acknowledge our marriage when we left the church, but I specifically told my exuberant sister not to choose anything the guests could throw at us that would filter annoyingly into our clothes.

My mother and grandmother demanded they be allowed to help, too, so I assigned them the task of ordering the garments for the wedding party. Steph and her friends had already picked out the dresses and shoes they wanted, all that was left was ordering them and making sure they fit. My mother gave me a stern lecture about the length of time it takes to order and alter dresses for the bridesmaids and mothers and grandmothers. I told her as long as everything was ready by the morning of June 6th, I didn't care. Her response was… surprising, to say the least. I didn't know my mother knew those kinds of words in Spanish.

It was Pilar who mentioned hiring a hair stylist and makeup artist to assist the wedding party get ready the morning of the ceremony. That was now her new assignment. And I asked Pilar to arrange clothing and whatever accoutrements were needed for the ring bearer and flower girls. I knew Stephanie wanted her two nieces and her best friend's daughter as her flower girls and I decided Alex's youngest son, Ricky, would be the right choice for our ring bearer. Ricky usually glued himself to my leg whenever he was in the same room with me, so I figured he would make a beeline down the aisle straight to me and then stay by my side until we needed the rings. As for my little sister, Lena, she had her hands full taking care of her first child, so I asked her to handle the guest register and the wedding presents the day of the wedding.

One of the tasks I took on myself was the wedding invitation. Since the wedding was only a few weeks away, I sent out an electronic "Save the Date" e-vite and then ordered a more formal invitation from a local stationery company that promised to do a good, but rush print job. We'd mail out the formal invitations as soon as they were printed. The hardest part had been getting a guest list from Steph's side of the family. The troubles between Frank and Ellen compounded the finalization of the bride's family portion of the guest list. I wasn't about to get in the middle of that. I just gave them a firm deadline and let them duke it out. I had Steph's guest list and that was all that mattered to me.

I'd just hung up the phone after talking to the stationers when the doorbell rang. Blackie barked once and ran to the door, waiting for me to follow. I gestured for Blackie to stay and opened the door to find my father standing there with a large wooden box in his hands.

"Father." I stepped back and gestured for him to come in. We had finally come to an understanding, but things were still a little strained between us.

"Good evening, Carlos. Forgive me for dropping in unannounced." He stepped over the threshold and held out the box. "These arrived today and I wanted you to have them. They are for your wedding reception."

I took the box from him and immediately recognized what it was. A humidor. I opened the lid and saw dozens and dozens of plump hand-rolled cigars, and not just any cigar. My father had brought me a humidor filled with Cuban Cohibas – not the lesser Dominican Republic brand. It was a Cuban tradition for the men – and more recently, the women – to celebrate the bride and groom's union by smoking Cohibas at the reception. Cuban Cohibas were almost impossible to obtain in the States and I knew these premium smokes had cost my father a fortune. I set the humidor on the side table and held out my hand. "Thank you. This is an incredible gift. I appreciate all it took for you to obtain these for us."

After an awkward handshake, my father moved into the living room and stood there, looking uncomfortable. I joined him and asked, "May I get you something to drink?"

He shook his head, "I will not be staying. I just wanted to bring you the cigars. Teresa told me that tonight is Estefanía's special night out with her bridesmaids. So, you are alone?"

"Yes, well, except for Blackie and Steph's hamster," I exhaled a slight chuckle. Blackie sniffed my father's pant leg and then settled down by my chair. "I've been making calls to local vendors regarding the wedding. Things are coming together nicely."

"Ah. Your wedding is only a few short weeks away. Your sisters chatter about nothing else. Even your mother has caught the wedding bug and talks nonstop about flowers, dresses and shoes." He _tsked_ and shook his head. "Do women think of nothing else but shoes?"

I couldn't help grinning, remembering Stephanie last night, wearing those thigh-high black leather boots and nothing else. "Some shoes are worth the effort women put into them," I answered.

"I do not see it, but then I do not pretend to understand women at all. Carolina is beside herself with pride that her little Ricky will be in the wedding party, carrying the precious rings for you and Estefánia, while Alejandro just rolls his eyes at such talk. But… then again, your brother was very pleased you asked him to be your best man. It is good that we are finally putting aside our past hurts and growing closer as a family again. If there is anything I can do to assist you with your wedding plans, please do not hesitate to ask me." My father's eyes kept darting around the room, as if he were afraid to look me in the eye.

"I think I have everything under control, but thank you for your offer."

"_Ahh_… did I tell you how pleased your mother and I are that you and Estefánia will be married in Sacred Heart?" I got the feeling that my father was stalling for some reason.

"We were fortunate to be able to reserve the church for that day in June. Most wedding venues seem to be booked nearly a year in advance nowadays. Everyone keeps telling me you can't plan a full-blown wedding in just five weeks, but so far, I haven't had a problem." I started to move toward the foyer.

"_Um_… Carlos… have you… _um_… decided where you will be holding the reception?"

That was it! That was what my father wanted. I'd been giving that very thing considerable thought. Stephanie had related the entire sordid affair of her telling Papa, when she thought he was just a family friend, that she wanted the reception at _Rosa's_, and then rescinded that decision when she found out Papa's true identity and the deception he had perpetrated on her. I had wholeheartedly agreed with her decision.

Over the last several days, I had looked at many options for places to hold our reception, including the clubhouse here in Bel Aire. Most places I would approve of were already booked and of the few halls and clubs that were available, none of them had the ambiance or the personal warmth I wanted for our wedding celebration.

Most of the time I didn't think about being Cuban, but the more I got into planning the wedding, the more I realized how much impact my family upbringing had had on me. And for some reason I wanted to celebrate my marriage to Stephanie in familiar comfortable surroundings. The situation with my family had changed, mainly because of Stephanie and the positive influence she had on me and on my family. My father and I had finally reached a truce and we were both trying to put the past behind us. While _Rosa's_ had been a source of contention between my father and me, it still represented "family" to me. The only reason not to have the reception at _Rosa's_ was to punish my father. Sobering thought!

"Please, sit down, Papa." We both settled into our respective chairs, my father nervously crossing and recrossing his legs. I was actually beginning to feel a little sorry for him. Knowing my father, I knew how much it would mean to him for us to have our reception at _Rosa's_, and also what it would mean if we didn't. He had been making serious amends to all of us and, more than once in the past month, I'd caught him biting his tongue, closing his eyes and then smiling to himself as he said a little prayer under his breath. He really was trying to change – and, typical for my father, taking great pride in his success. But he was truly trying to be a better father to his children and husband to his wife.

"About the wedding reception," I began, and my father immediately stilled. "I know Stephanie had told you we wouldn't be having our reception at _Rosa's_. She was very upset that you had continued to lie to her about who you were, and she realized that _Rosa's_ would be the last place where I would want to celebrate my marriage. And she was right." I paused before giving him my decision.

And then I watched as my father's shoulders slumped forward and his chest caved in. He took a deep breath and said, "I understand, mijo. If I could take back all my horrible actions, I would. Your wedding should be one of the happiest days of your life, and you and your lovely bride should celebrate where you are comfortable."

His reaction shocked me. If anything was going to shake my father's newfound humbleness it would be this, but he was handling it with a calm acceptance I'd never experienced from him before. I was impressed.

Leaning forward, I steepled my hands in front of me, my forearms on my knees and said, "The decision not to use _Rosa's_ for the reception was made a while ago, and since then things have changed…for the better. _'Genio y figura hasta la sepultura.'_ But, Papa, you have proven that saying false." Both of us looked the other in the eye and an understanding passed between us. I think it was the first actual man-to-man exchange, albeit wordless, my father and I had had. By that, I mean my father actually seeing me as an adult, not just as his wayward son, and me respecting the enlightened man my father had become.

[_AN: The phrase 'genio y figura hasta la sepultura' roughly translates to 'what's learned in the cradle lasts till the grave,' or 'old habits die hard,' but it mainly refers to the Scripture: 'A leopard cannot change its spots.'_]

Still looking him in the eye, I stated, "If it's available, Stephanie and I would like to have our wedding reception at _Rosa's_." There. I offered him the ultimate olive branch.

My father had barely taken a breath since I started talking. Now he let it out in a whoosh, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He stood up and then I stood and accepted the tight hug he drew me into. When we broke apart, my father, his lips pressed tightly together, could only nod. His head bobbed up and down rapidly as he took my hand in both of his and shook it. Then he finally found his voice and his words came out all in a rush.

"Mijo, you have made me the happiest man in the world. I will not let you or Estefánia down. My spots have truly changed. I will throw you the best wedding reception in the history of _Rosa's_. The best food, the best drinks, the most glorious decorations, the most popular band. Anything you want, just name it. Or leave it all to me and I will plan everything, all of your favorites and then some. It will be… _fabuloso!_" He was nearly breathless now and smiling the first genuine smile of the evening.

"I know it will, Papa. I'll leave it in your capable hands. And price is no object. I can afford to splurge to give my novia the grandest wedding reception possible. I'm only going to get married once and I want to do it in style."

"Oh no, mijo. This will be my gift to you and your beautiful bride. I owe Estefánia so much. And you… my son, to have you choose my restaurant for your most happiest of days, it is my dream come true. It is an honor and I agree, price is no object."

"Papa, this is nonnegotiable. I insist on paying for the food and drink and for the servers' time. There will be over 300 people in attendance and our friends and family can really pack away the food. If you want to waive the cost of _Rosa's_ and your time, I will gratefully accept that as your wedding gift, but I insist on paying for the rest of it. Let's not fight over this. I want nothing but happy memories of the day I wed my beloved."

My father was silent as he listened to my words. I saw his jaw clench and then a sparkle come into his eyes. I knew he would agree to my demands tonight, but I also knew the bill for the reception he would finally submit to me wouldn't be the true bill. I mentally sighed.

"I reluctantly capitulate, mijo. Except for the desserts. They will be my personal gift to your bride, as she loves all things sweet."

I nodded and stuck out my hand. "We have a deal then. And you've got that right. Stephanie's dream meal would be one that included every type of dessert known to man. If you can give her even a tenth of that, you will make her happy. And when she's happy, I'm happy." We both smiled and shook hands.

"That is the true key to marital happiness, my son. Keep your lovely bride happy, make it a priority and your life together will be a happy one. It has taken me nearly 40 years to learn that lesson."

I walked my father to the door, thanking him again for the cigars. He left a very happy man and, I had to admit, I felt good, too.

**TBC**


	53. Chapter 53 Chapter 137

**CHAPTER 137**

_Stephanie's POV_

This was luxury! Who knew the magic that went on behind closed Red Doors?

I had a heated pillow tucked behind my neck, my nose was filled with the relaxing scent of lavender, and my feet were being masterfully massaged by Tiffany, and I swear it was almost better than sex. I even had a half full glass of chilled champagne within reach if I got thirsty.

Mary Lou lay face down on the padded table next to me, covered in a pristine white sheet, moaning and groaning with the sheer pleasure she was feeling as Amber kneaded her shoulder muscles. We were experiencing the ultimate in relaxing massages, and across the room, Tina and Keira were reclined back in padded leather chairs getting the Red Door's signature facials. Amanda and Melinda had opted to get their nails done first and were down the hall in the beauty salon. While I didn't want my massage to end, I also couldn't wait to get a facial… and a mani and a pedi and a makeup session.

The six of us had already toasted to Rosa's generosity at the beginning of our day at the Red Door Spa when our hostess greeted us with cold glasses of champagne as soon as we entered the Spa. Keira and Tina had opted for sparkling water instead of champagne. Keira didn't like champagne and Tina said her stomach was a little queasy. The rest of us loved being plied with champagne in long-stemmed crystal goblets. This was going to be some day to remember!

Tiffany had moved up my legs and was now massaging my neck and head. I didn't know which was better: the head massage or the foot massage. Top to bottom, it was all good. Mary Lou was now lying on her back and receiving the same heavenly foot massage I just had. I thought I was a loud moaner, but Mare sounded like she was having an orgasm. Who knows… maybe she was.

Both Tina and Keira had chosen a chocolate mask as part of their facial and as the aesthetician warmed the concoction, the aroma of dark chocolate wafted throughout the room. Suddenly, Tina sat upright, her face as white as the sheets we were lying on.

"What's wrong?" I asked, watching Tina struggle to get out of the recliner. She didn't answer; she raced from the room, her hand clamped over her mouth. The rest of us just looked at each other, hoping one of us would know what just happened. Since Mary Lou and I weren't exactly dressed for running through the halls, Keira went after her. A few minutes later, Tina and Keira returned.

Tina looked a little sheepish as she got back in her chair. "I guess the excitement finally got to me. My stomach has been a little touchy lately and early this morning, I indulged in a greasy bacon and egg sandwich." She put her head back and apologized to the girl doing the facials. We all relaxed and let the Red Door Spa treatment make us feel like royalty.

When it was time for us to switch places, Tina lay down on the table I'd vacated and Tiffany selected a scented massage oil she thought might help Tina's queasy stomach. Tina took one whiff of the peppermint oil and made another beeline for the restroom. When she returned, she declined the massage and said she wanted to get her nails done and would join Melinda and Amanda in the beauty salon. As Tina left the massage room, Keira shook her head and confided, "I hope Tina isn't coming down with something. She's been talking nonstop about this trip for days. It'd be a shame if she missed any of it."

"Tina's a trooper," I said. "She rarely gets sick and it would take something like the bubonic plague to keep her from enjoying Afternoon Tea and our night out on the town." I was a little worried, though. I had noticed she'd declined the massage and I knew she'd really been looking forward to that.

Mary Lou, Keira and I caught up with Tina in the salon and she was back to her laughing self, joking with Melinda and Amanda about the fun time they were going to have once we hit the nightclub later that night. Just as I figured, it would take a major catastrophe to keep Tina down.

Keira and I sat side by side to get our manicure, our hands soaking in a moisturizer, while Mary Lou started her pedicure. Tina, Amanda and Melinda were just finishing up their salon treatments and their nails looked terrific. Keira chose Passion Purple for her nail color and I was debating between Sapphire and My Blue Heaven, both gorgeous shades of blue that would look fabulous with the dark blue dress I planned to wear later tonight.

We'd been so busy at work, Keira and I hadn't had a spare moment to catch up on our personal lives. Curious, I asked Keira if she was seeing anyone special.

She was quiet for a minute before answering, "No. In fact, I haven't been on a date in months. I… I just haven't been attracted to any one since…" Her voice trailed off and I could see she was embarrassed.

"Since…?" I prompted.

She blew out a big puff of air and tossed her head back. "There's someone I can't get out of my head, but I can't bring myself to call him. After we first met, he called me several times until I finally told him not to call anymore until he was free."

"Oh, is he dating someone else?" I asked and then whispered, "He's not married, is he?"

She shook her head. "If you must know, it's Pierre, _um_… Tank. I don't want to start dating him, and then _liking_ him, and then…"

"And then what?" I coaxed.

Keira sighed deeply. "And then have him leave. Probably for months at a time. Tank's in the Army and I know he has to go when and where they send him. And since he's a soldier, he could get hurt or..." She sighed again and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I… I couldn't go through that again."

"I have a feeling there's more to this story. Do you want to talk about it?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. "I haven't talked about this in years. But… when I met Tank and… and realized I was really attracted to him, well, it brought it all back up again." She fidgeted a little and blinked rapidly trying to get her emotions under control. I waited patiently. Finally she continued, "Seven years ago, my boyfriend, the guy I'd been dating since my senior year in high school, decided to enlist in the military. It was right after 9/11."

I nodded. Many of the boys I went to high school with had joined up after the terrible events of 9/11.

Keira sniffed. I could see she wanted to blow her nose, but her hands were soaking in lotion. She continued with her story, "I supported him wholeheartedly. I was so proud of his patriotism and dedication. We got engaged just before he left for Basic. I wrote him every day he was in boot camp. And then he got sent overseas, to Afghanistan." The tears began to roll down Keira's cheeks. My heart fell. I knew what she was going to say next and tears welled up in my eyes, too.

"His parents got the word first and called me. I couldn't believe it. He couldn't be gone, but he was. He died a hero, but still… he… _died_! He was the love of my life…" Her voice quavered and she stopped for a moment. "I felt like my life was over. I vowed never to get involved with anyone even remotely connected to the military." She shook her head as I started to speak. "I know, people die every day, but I just can't handle the stress of being with a soldier. I don't think I could date a policeman either. I'm just not cut out for that kind of life. And Tank is a soldier. No matter how attracted I am to him, I just can't deal with it." She lifted one dripping hand up and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. We both sat silent, each contemplating the complexities of love.

Carlos had told me that both Tank and Lester planned to leave the Army soon and go to work for him to get Carlos' security company established. It didn't seem to be a secret. "Keira, would you feel differently if Tank was a civilian?"

She gave me a wan smile. "If he was in a regular nine to five job, I'd be all over that big hunk of delicious dark chocolate in a heartbeat. You know what they say: dark chocolate is good for you. Just a little _bite_ every day," she grinned.

"Don't you mean just a little _bit_ every day?"

Keira winked at me, "You eat your chocolate your way, and I'll eat mine my way."

I grinned back, thinking she might have the right idea about chocolate, even the mocha latte kind. "I have it on good authority that Tank will be out of the Army very soon. Also, that he plans on settling down in Jersey."

Keira's grin widened from ear-to-ear. Tank was a big strong man, but I wondered if even Tank could handle a determined, lustful Keira bent on sampling his chocolatey goodness on a daily basis.

A few hours later, we were all relaxed, exfoliated, painted and primped to within an inch of our lives as we entered the elegant Palm Court of the Plaza Hotel. All six of us were dolled up in our best Sunday-go-to-meeting dresses and hoped we blended into the upper crust crowd, though with our mouths hanging open as we took in the ornate splendor of the restaurant, I doubt we achieved that particular goal.

We were escorted to our table by the maître d, and I felt so classy as he held out my chair and gently pushed it under my legs as I sat down. You don't get that kind of service at McDonalds. I glanced around me trying not to look like a gawking hillbilly, but the place was magnificent. To start, the ceiling was a huge domed skylight of delicate stained glass and the trim was gleaming gold. The walls were painted a light beige and the dark woods and towering graceful green palms accentuated the grandeur of the room. The arched mirrored doors made the space seem airy and light, and carved marble columns separated each door. None of us had ever been in so sumptuous a room and now, we were going to experience an elegant afternoon tea service. My little pinkie finger automatically lifted up.

And then the food and drink began to arrive. First, we were offered our choice of teas. Not in tea bags, of course. That would be too ordinary. The loose tea was steeped right at our table in beautifully painted porcelain teapots and poured with elegant pomp and circumstance into equally beautiful teacups. We took a moment to lift our teacups to Dawson Books, thanking him in absentia for our lavish repast. Then the waiters placed on our table several multi-tiered trays of crustless finger sandwiches. Each rectangle of bread was smeared with luscious tasty spreads and piled high with things like cucumber, smoked salmon, prosciutto, roast beef, and truffled quail egg salad. Those dainty bites were followed by freshly made hot scones laden with Devonshire cream, lemon curd and fruit preserves. And then there was the endless assortment of pastries. I was in heaven.

The motto of The Plaza is "where dreams become memories" and today was truly becoming a dream-like memory. We were all thoroughly enjoying ourselves until Tina bit into a chocolate cupcake. Her eyes got big, her face took on a greenish hue and she clamped a hand across her mouth as she shoved her chair back from the table and fled from the room. I immediately stood up and rushed to follow her. I found her hunched over a toilet in one of the most beautiful bathrooms I'd ever been in. Whatever had troubled her was over as quickly as it had begun. I helped her clean up, but she looked terrible.

"I'm so sorry I'm ruining your bachelorette party, Stevie. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel fine one minute and then I'm puking my guts out the next. Except for my stomach muscles being sore, I feel fine now that I barfed up that delicious and extravagantly expensive lunch." She gave me a weak smile and leaned over the sink to slurp up a little more cool water.

"What do you want to do now? Do you want to go home?" I asked, concerned about my suffering friend.

"Hell, no! I can't wait to burn up the dance floor tonight. Give me a couple of hours to rest up and I'll be primed and ready to go." We rejoined our friends in the Palm Court, but the tea service was over. We made our way to our own private elevator that would take us to our unbelievably decadent suite.

Dawson had really splurged and reserved the Royal Plaza Suite. It was big enough to accommodate all six of us and then some. It had a grand piano, a dining room with seating for 12, a fully stocked kitchen, an incredible library, and even its own gym. And talk about opulent. The furnishings were to die for. I was afraid to touch anything or even sit down. The place looked like it had been lifted straight out of some royal palace of a past era, except for the state-of-the-art flat screen TVs and iPads that controlled the room environment.

Tina was glued to one of the windows, taking in the spectacular views of Fifth Avenue and Manhattan. She turned around with a look of awe on her face. "_Shee-it!_ This must have set Dawson back _several _pretty pennies. I've never seen so much gold and brocade and marble. And look at these paintings. I bet they're real, not fakes like in most hotels. This sure beats the place we stayed in for Stella's bachelorette party." We all laughed as we gazed around the living room and its luxurious furnishings. As we trooped though the entire suite, each room seemed more spectacular than the last, right down to the 24-carat faucets in all the en-suite bathrooms.

Mary Lou, an avid history student, remarked, "I feel like we've been transported back in time to 18th century France." She went on to explain a bit about life in 18th century France and then she giggled, "And we are like highly sought after courtesans preparing for a night of royal decadence in King Louis XV's court."

"Thanks, Professor Stankovic," Tina quipped. Mary Lou flipped her off and disappeared into the library, and knowing Mare, she'd be there for hours reverently fondling the many first edition books that lined the dark wood shelves.

Ever the practical one, Keira announced, "Well, if we're going to dance the night away, I'm going to get a few hours of shut-eye." She looked at Amanda, her roommate for the night, "You coming, dear?"

The rest of us followed suit, though I didn't think I would actually sleep. Boy, was I wrong! Even though it was Tina lying next to me in the king-sized bed instead of Carlos, I slept like a baby.

Tina stirred and woke me up. We still had a couple of hours before the limousine was to pick us up and my stomach was growling. I stretched languorously and took in the grandeur of our bedroom. I still couldn't believe the opulence of our surroundings. My stomach growled again and I slid out of the comfy bed.

"Hey, sleepy head," I called over to an awake but still-recumbent Tina, "I'm going to call room service and order a snack. How does a cheeseburger and fries sound?"

Tina went from looking rested to looking like a ghost. She put both hands over her mouth as she leapt from the bed and darted into the bathroom. I heard the distinctive heave and then a long splash as the contents of her stomach sprayed into the bowl of the toilet. This was getting serious. I heard the flush of the toilet and then water running in the sink. When Tina returned, she looked weak and embarrassed.

"I don't know what's going on with me. I don't feel sick until I think about food."

"Do you have any other symptoms? Headache, diarrhea, stomach ache?" I asked. She shook her head. "Do you want to see a doctor?"

Tina violently shook her head. "I don't feel sick, Stevie. I just keep vomiting. If I had food poisoning, wouldn't I feel bad? Wouldn't I also have the runs?" She sat back down on the bed just as the rest of the girls came in.

Mary Lou sat down next to Tina and asked, "Did you get sick again?" When Tina nodded, Mare felt her forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever. Are you still nauseous?"

"No. It's weird. I only feel like puking my guts out when I think about eating," Tina replied.

Mary Lou chuckled and asked the question no one had wanted to bring up. "Could you be pregnant?"

This time, Tina didn't make it to the bathroom. She grabbed the fancy gilded wastebasket and heaved into it. Amanda ran to the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth and handed it to Tina after she stopped dry heaving. Tina wiped her face and then Mary Lou took the washcloth, folded it and put it on the back of Tina's neck. "Well, could you be?" Mary Lou reiterated.

Tina glanced up at me and then at the rest of the girls. You could see the gears in her brain turning and then grinding to a halt as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "Fuck!" was all she said.

I fell back in one of the winged-backed chairs, my mouth also dropping open. "Tina! Are you telling me you and Lester didn't use protection?"

"Just once! I swear, it was just once. We ran out of condoms and I thought I was in a good place in my cycle. _Oh, shit!_ I can't be pregnant! I'm not married yet. My mother's going to kill me!" And then she screamed, "Lester! What do I tell him? We both want kids, but not now! _Shit, shit, shit, shit!_"

Amanda sat down on the other side of Tina and grabbed her hand. "How long ago was this?"

Tina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "It was sometime last month."

"Have you missed a period?" I asked.

"I'm a little late, but that's not uncommon for me. I don't have a clockwork cycle like you do, Stevie," Tina spat out, the reality of the situation beginning to hit her. "Fuck, fuck, and double fuck."

Amanda patted her hand. "Wait! Don't panic. You don't know for sure. Let's get a home pregnancy test and see."

I chimed in, "That's a good idea. I'll go out and find a drugstore. Stay put and don't do anything you'll regret… like calling Lester. Let's take the test first, OK?"

Tina nodded, her breaths coming more quickly. I grabbed some clothes and started to change. Tina jumped up and cried, "I'm coming with you."

"Why don't we all go. It'll be like a scavenger hunt, racing down Fifth Avenue in search of a drugstore and a pregnancy test," Mary Lou said, giggling.

A half hour later we were back in the suite, loaded down with a half dozen different pregnancy tests. Tina had gone a little crazy in the drugstore and rather than argue with her, we let her pick out whatever she wanted. The bag also included some crystallized ginger for Tina's nausea and candy bars for the rest of us.

The five of us sat in the bedroom munching on candy bars and waiting while Tina did her thing in the bathroom. In less than a minute, she rushed out, holding the plastic stick as far from her body as she could and pleaded with me to take it. "I can't look, Stevie, you look and tell me what it says," she cried.

I gingerly held the stick between my thumb and index finger and stared at it. Tina started pacing and Mary Lou moved to my side. Slowly, a faint line started to form in the middle of the stick. Nervously, I glanced at Tina, who had stopped pacing. We locked eyes for a moment and I could see her begin to panic. I looked back down at the stick and saw a "plus" sign. I showed it to Mary Lou, who sucked in a big gulp of air.

"It's positive," I whispered.

"WHAT?" Tina gasped. "Hunh-uh!" She rushed over and yanked the stick out of my hand. "No-no-no-no-no!" She stared at me for a minute and then grabbed another box off the dresser and ran back into the bathroom.

Oh, boy!

As Tina took two more tests, the rest of us shared horror stories about the times we thought we were pregnant. It was amazing how many of us had done the deed without protection, each of us thinking at the time 'it couldn't happen to me.' Luckily for most of us, those few days of worry were for naught. Mary Lou was the only one of us who had actually been pregnant and we turned to her as our source of information.

Needless to say, none of us were really up for a wild night on the town. Tina couldn't drink alcohol now and our festive mood had shifted substantially. In a unanimous decision, we cancelled the limo and ordered room service. After all, we had a 12-person dining room to break in and a fully stocked kitchen to raid.

The rest of the evening was actually fun. Well, fun for five of us. Tina made good use of the other three pregnancy tests and slowly adjusted to the fact that she was indeed "with child." Tina alternated between laughing and crying as she tried to plan out how she was going to tell Lester about her being pregnant. We offered up baby names, and speculated if she'd have a noticeable baby bump when she and Lester got married in July. We all shared our feelings about having kids and how that would change life as we knew it. Mary Lou could attest to that.

And then Tina's phone rang.

She just stared at it as it continued to ring.

"Are you going to answer it?" I asked.

"It's Lester!" she replied. "What do I tell him?" All of us motioned for her to talk to him. It only took hearing his voice and she lost it. She started, "Les…" and the waterworks began. Tina sank to the plush carpeted floor and cried into the phone. There were no coherent words, only sobs and tearful babbling. I gently pried the phone away from her clenched hands.

"Lester? This is Stephanie." Lester was shouting into the phone, concerned about his sobbing bride. "Lester, calm down. Tina's okay. She's a little emotional right now, but she's fine." Lester's voice dropped back to normal, but he was still talking a mile a minute, asking question after question. How could I explain what had made Tina so emotional?

Mary Lou and Amanda helped Tina to a chair and gave her some water to drink. She stopped crying, but now she had the hiccups. I handed her the phone back and motioned for the rest of us to leave Tina and Lester alone while she told her fiancé the news.

Before I closed the door, I heard Tina say, "Lester… _hic_… remember the… _hic_… night we played Secret… _hic_… Agent Man and the rocket launcher? Well, your… _hic_… rocket was successful in bursting through my… _hic_… defenses. I'm… _hic_... pregnant!" Tina pulled the phone away from her ear and even I could hear Lester's very loud response, "_Yeehaw!_"

**TBC**


	54. Chapter 54 Chapter 138

**CHAPTER 138**

_In the presence of their loved ones_

_and their closest friends_

_**Stephanie Michelle Plum**_

_and_

_**Ricardo Carlos Mañoso**_

_will exchange vows of marriage_

_and promise to love each other faithfully_

_We invite you to join us on_

_Saturday, the 6__th__ of June_

_two thousand and nine_

_at nine o'clock in the morning_

_at_

_Sacred Heart Cathedral_

_Carlos' POV_

Thank God this day is finally here! I honestly thought I'd go insane before we got this far. For some stupid reason, I let my lovely fiancée talk me into sleeping in separate bedrooms during the week leading up to this glorious day. Actually, it was only three days and it was Father Brady's suggestion, but it took Stephanie two days to convince me it would be worth the wait to give our honeymoon an even greater impact due to our short period of self-imposed celibacy. Short period, my ass! Those were three of the longest days of my life; sleeping alone in one of our guest bedrooms was sheer torture. After today, though, nothing and no one will _ever_ keep me from sharing my Babe's bed ever again.

"Hey, hermanito, what's with the grim face?" whispered Alex, my Best Man, who was standing on one side of me at the front of the cavernous Sacred Heart Cathedral. Alex always dressed well, but he looked particularly polished in his black tuxedo. Father Brady was standing on my other side while we waited ever so patiently for the final notes of Handel's "_Xerxes: Largo_" to end. [_little brother_]

The soothing sounds of the classical music washed over me, but I was too excited to allow it to calm my nerves. My Abuela Rosa's husband, Dawson, was able to hire the same string quartet that played for their wedding to play for Stephanie and me. Next, the hauntingly beautiful notes of Bach's "_Air – On the G String_" began to echo off of the walls of the vast cathedral.

"Nothing," I murmured as I realized I must have been scowling while I was thinking about my long, lonely and unfulfilling nights. Taking a deep breath, I wiped away the dismal thoughts and allowed the corner of my mouth to twitch upward in a semi-smile. "Nothing that won't be remedied by this afternoon," I replied quietly.

Alex grinned at me and joked, "My car's parked out back if you need a getaway vehicle. It's still not too late to escape from the shackles of marriage, you know."

I flicked my gaze sideways toward the priest and said, "I'm telling Carolina you said that. I'm sure she'd be interested to know you consider yourself to be shackled," I teased in return and enjoyed seeing the color drain from my brother's face. We both knew she'd make him pay dearly for making such a comment.

"Never mind," Alex grumbled and he smoothed the front of his tuxedo jacket. "I'm gonna enjoy watching your novia whip you into shape, bro'."

Tank, my other Best Man, chuckled and nudged Alex with his elbow. "Dog, you know Carlos is already whipped. And bad. Santos told me your brother had to go _without_ for the past few days, if you know what I mean."

Alex tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a snort of amusement.

"Santos?" I growled. "How the hell did he and his effin' big mouth find out?"

"Tina. How else?" Tank shrugged and whispered, "She said Stephanie told her about the withholding because she thought maybe Tina and Santos should try to do the same thing before their wedding. Santos said no way, no how was he gonna do something so whack – not even for _one_ day. Besides, it's not like abstinence'll make a bit of difference for them, since his lady is already knocked up."

This was true. Santos had only informed our small group of friends about his impending fatherhood and had asked us to keep the news to ourselves, but we all knew how very proud he was of his now-proven virility. As far as I was concerned, my friend could have the "Big Daddy" bragging rights all to himself. Stephanie and I both wanted children someday, but we weren't trying to go down that path any time soon. Therefore, I definitely carried protection with me at all times. In this area in my life, failure was not an option, so I gave myself a quick mental reminder to buy more condoms for the honeymoon.

Father Brady quietly cleared his throat and I whispered a quick apology for our somewhat inappropriate conversation. Then I allowed my mind to drift to even more inappropriate thoughts about the crazy bachelor party the guys threw for me after last night's so-called rehearsal dinner. After the wedding rehearsal, we had taken everyone to a nearby McDonald's restaurant, partly because it was Stephanie's favorite place to eat and partly to let the little kids run around in the play-land for a while. Everyone knew we had to get up early this morning, so we were only supposed to go to a certain private club for a few rounds of poker and then call it a night. In fact, Alex and Mateo had promised their wives we were just going to play cards and smoke cigars.

Tank knew I didn't really care about strippers, but I'm sure Santos convinced my two Best Men that the younger, unattached men in the wedding party deserved a little fun. Therefore, when three over-endowed, under-dressed, bleach-blonde "dancers" burst out of the middle of our card table, I could only shake my head in mild amusement. Their presence at our poker party wasn't really a surprise, but I was actually annoyed because I'd had a very good hand – a full house – and I was getting ready to clean Mat out. When the ladies tried to get me interested in a lap dance, I redirected them toward Bobby Brown, Antonio Rivera and Javier Valdez. And yes, those men definitely had lots of fun.

I shook myself out of those thoughts and then we all stood quietly as more family members, close friends and neighbors and a few business associates found seats in the pews according to their affiliation with either Steph or me. I was amazed so many people were able to attend at such short notice and so early on a Saturday morning. After spending all these years in the military, early mornings were not a problem for me; I was wide awake and quite alert, even though I'd only had a few hours of sleep. In fact, I was ready to drink in every detail of this day, because, trust me, I only planned to get married one time. Solamente una vez. [_Only one time._]

Finally, Father Brady placed a hand on my shoulder and quietly said, "Alright, gentlemen, the organist just gave us the signal. It's show time!"

Tank and I tugged on the bottom hems of our military dress uniform jackets and we straightened our posture as we gazed down the long center aisle of the church. I could feel the anticipation building inside of me as the organist and string quartet began to play Bach's "_Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring_" and my father escorted my mother to their seats directly in front of me. My father was wearing a black tuxedo, just like all of the other civilian men in our wedding party, and my mother was wearing a pale blue mermaid–cut dress with a beaded bolero jacket. They truly looked stunning together. Both of my parents' eyes were shining bright with happy tears when they smiled at me from their pew.

Next, Mateo escorted Abuela Rosa to the altar where she lit the candle to represent my side of the family, and then he led her to her seat next to Dawson Books in the pew behind my parents. He too, was wearing a black tuxedo, but his shirt and tie were different from the ones my civilian groomsmen were wearing. My mother had told me that Abuela Rosa's dress was a color called "mauve," but it sure looked rose-colored to me. Anyway, its matching jacket was covered in the same colored – mauve or rose or whatever it was – lace. It was quite elegant. Once again, I felt very happy for my grandmother and her new husband. Their mutual love for each other was obvious to everyone.

I held my breath as Bobby, dressed in his military dress uniform, escorted Stephanie's Grandma Mazur to the altar to light the candle representing her side of the family. She was wearing a gold-toned, floor-length gown with a beaded bodice and a matching beaded bolero jacket. She actually looked very nice, too. I guess the trick was to cover up those scrawny, chicken-skin legs of hers. She patted Bobby's arm in gratitude after he led her to her seat next to Mr. Sneed in the second row, opposite my Abuela Rosa. During the wedding rehearsal, Grandma Mazur couldn't seem to keep her hands from roaming over Brown's backside, but she appeared to be behaving today.

"Damn, Superman, you _owe_ me!" Bobby whispered when he brushed past me on his way to his place beside Mateo. "Stephanie's granny is like an octopus with claws. I thought I'd have to kill her before I marched her down the aisle. Man, I'm gonna have bruises all over my ass from her pinching me so much!"

Father Brady cleared his throat again and Bobby had the good sense to look sheepish and shut up. I guess it was obvious my friends and I weren't regular churchgoers.

Lastly, Santos, also wearing his military dress uniform, escorted Stephanie's mother to her seat. At first, I didn't even want Ellen Plum to be allowed anywhere near my wedding. When the witch had toured the offices of Books/Plum Design, she'd tried again to convince my Babe it wasn't too late for her to choose to marry that jackass, Morelli. At least I knew where Stephanie got her tenacity genes. Still, I wanted to wring Ellen Plum's neck.

After the office visit, Steph reminded me about the old saying, "keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer." Then she convinced me it would be better for us in the long run to let her mother have a minor role in the wedding ceremony in order to keep her contained. Who knew what mischief Ellen Plum might get into if we didn't keep a close watch on her?

"Val told me she thinks Mom will be on her best behavior now, just like your father has been lately," Stephanie had said when I first agreed to our compromise. "The day after Mom visited my office and I told her if she didn't respect my choice of a husband, then she didn't have to attend our wedding, she had dinner at Val's house and started complaining about you."

"Surprise, surprise," I deadpanned.

Steph playfully swatted my arm and continued, "Well, it seems that both Mary Alice and Angie informed my mother that they didn't like the way she was being so mean to 'Uncle Carlos' and they wanted her to be nicer. I guess Mom didn't think anyone – other than you – would ever call her on her bad behavior. You know that old saying, 'Out of the mouth of babes'? I think it must be true. Apparently, the granddaughters have special powers that neither Val nor I have ever possessed. Mom sounded almost grateful when I told her she could be in the wedding procession."

"I'm not so sure we can trust your mother to be civil just because the little girls made her feel guilty," I cautioned.

Stephanie had sighed and said, "I know, I know. It's just that I really think we should take the high road here. Val says she thinks Mom will behave at the wedding. You know, my sister really has changed a lot since her divorce became final and she started dating Alberto openly. She isn't letting our mother push her around anymore, so I think I can trust her judgment now, at least where Mom is concerned."

"I'm already placing a lot of trust in my own mother's assurances that my father won't let his ego get the best of him," I had replied. "Add in your mother's tendency to make everything be about her and, well, Babe, that's a lot of risk for one day. _Our_ day." Then, in order to help me feel better about our decisions, Steph gave me a back and shoulder massage which turned into an all-over-my-body massage and from there, an all-night sex marathon. I vow to always remember how my Babe shows her gratitude and I'll make sure I give her plenty of reasons to be grateful.

Originally, Santos was going to escort my Abuela Rosa to her seat and Mateo was supposed to escort my mother. Poor Bobby had drawn the short stick and was stuck with Grandma Mazur from the beginning. Steph was willing to add another bridesmaid if I needed to add a groomsman, but I told her I had a plan that would keep our wedding party within its current numbers. Of course, my father jumped at the chance to be my mother's escort down the aisle, especially since I hadn't asked him to fill one of the speaking roles. What a show-off!

I had already vetoed having my father give one of the readings during the Mass. Despite our recent reconciliation, there was no way I was letting him near a microphone during my wedding ceremony, primarily because there was no telling what he might say. Similarly, I wanted to limit the opportunities for Steph's mom to wreak havoc on our special day. And since Frank and Ellen Plum were barely speaking to each other, we decided to have our grandmothers light the altar candles, instead of our parents. It was a good decision.

During the wedding procession, Steph's mother walked stiffly next to Santos and it was obvious she wanted as little physical contact with him as possible. She was wearing a full-length gown the same pale blue as my mother's gown, but it was more conservative and had a longer jacket with beaded accents. Despite her disdainful facial expressions, Ellen Plum did look good in her outfit. I stifled a weary sigh as I watched Ellen Plum settle into her assigned place. At least she hadn't demanded to bring her "friend" to the wedding. For Frank's sake, I would have had to say "No way, José!" Then I'm sure things would have turned real ugly. Fortunately, everything seemed to be going smoothly, so far.

The music changed again; this time, the string quartet played Pachelbel's "_Canon in D_" while the bridal party made its way down the aisle. First, my nephew, Ricky, dressed in a little black suit, nervously walked between the rows of people "ooing" and "ahhing" over his cuteness. He was carrying a little teddy bear with a blue ribbon around its neck. As predicted, the shy little boy came directly to the altar and reached for my pants leg. His daddy, Alex, caught his little hand before he could cling to me and he reassured him that he'd done a good job of carrying the wedding rings for me. Our rings were looped into the bear's ribbon necklace and Alex quickly pocketed the rings for safekeeping.

Next, Stephanie's girlfriends, Keira, Amanda, and Melinda, glided down the aisle, looking lovely in their royal blue satin, strapless gowns. They each held a simple arrangement of two long-stemmed white calla lilies in front of them. I heard Tank's quiet gasp of delight when Keira raised her eyebrow at him. I had a feeling my giant friend was going to get lucky very, very soon. Mary Lou, Steph's Matron of Honor, walked down the aisle, dressed in a strapless gown of light gold material. With her shiny blonde hair, she looked like some sort of fairy princess from one of my nieces' storybooks. Then it was Santos' turn to gasp when his lady, Tina, who was wearing a dress identical to the one Mary Lou had on, took her place at the altar as Steph's Maid of Honor. The gold gown really set off Tina's caramel-colored skin. There was no hint that she was pregnant. All of the ladies were beautiful, but I knew none of them could ever compare to my Babe.

There was a slight pause in the procession as Diego and Antonio, each in their military dress uniform, rolled a length of white cloth down the aisle. Then there was more "ooing" and "ahhing" when the three flower girls – Steph's nieces, Angie and Mary Alice, and Steph's goddaughter, Mary Lou's only girl, Michelle – scattered patriotic red, white and blue rose petals all the way to the altar. Each little girl was wearing a fluffy white dress with a pale blue sash. They were so cute! I thought my heart would beat its way out of my chest, though, when Javier and Miguel finally closed the chapel doors. It was time!

Everyone stood up when the organist began to play the "_Prince of Denmark's March_" and the men opened the doors to reveal Stephanie and her father standing in the doorway. Or at least, I assumed Frank was escorting Steph down the aisle, because I could see only her.

There she was: my Wonder Woman, my Babe, my soon-to-be _wife_. Stephanie was a vision in white, with sparkles of blue at her wrist, ears and neck from all the blue diamond jewelry pieces I'd presented to her the previous day. Her dress hugged all her curves and she looked incredible in it. All I could do was gaze into her gorgeous blue eyes as she slowly made her way toward me. I was so overcome by emotions, I could barely breathe.

Before she arrived at the altar, Stephanie made three quick stops. Even though I knew what she was going to do, I still was amazed by her poise and proud of her indomitable spirit. The organ music was too loud for anyone beyond the third row of pews to hear her, but I could hear my Babe's words just fine.

First, she went to my Abuela Rosa and pulled a long-stemmed white rose out of her bridal bouquet of white calla lilies. I hadn't noticed any roses there when we placed the order with the florist, so this was somewhat of a surprise to me. After handing the special flower to the special woman who had meant so much to me for my entire life, my Babe said, "Thank you so much for helping to raise Carlos and for loving him and taking care of him and his special mementos throughout his life. Now I look forward to carrying on what you started." She waited for Dawson to translate her words and then my two favorite women in the entire world briefly hugged and exchanged air kisses.

Next, Stephanie paused at my parents' pew, pulled out another white rose and handed it to my mother, saying "Thank you for having and raising such a wonderful son and gentleman. Now I look forward to reaping the benefits of all your hard work." They also exchanged air kisses while the people in the congregation murmured their approval, some in English and others in Spanish.

Then my lovely Babe crossed over to the other side of the aisle and gave a white rose to her grandmother. It took Steph a moment to gather herself before she said, "Thank you, Grandma Mazur, for always being there for me and always encouraging me and always believing in me. It's because of your constant and reliable support that I can let go of the baggage of the past. I now look forward to all the adventures and thrills of the future. I love you, Grandma." And she gave Edna Mazur a quick kiss on her wrinkled cheek, without leaving any trace of lipstick behind.

Stephanie took a moment to gaze at her mother, her blue eyes filled with momentary sadness. She took a quick breath and quietly said, "Thank you for giving me life and for being here today, Mom. I love you and I always will, but I have to be me and I guess you'll just have to be you." She shrugged with regret and turned back to her father. There was no special flower for Ellen Plum.

Frank Plum finished escorting Stephanie to the altar and when they stopped, he kissed her gently on her cheek, patted her hand, and then went to his place in the same pew, but not right next to Ellen. I stepped away from Alex and the rest of the men to stand beside my beautiful bride. Our shoulders touched and our eyes locked on each other, and after a brief smile, we both turned our faces toward Father Brady. It was finally happening; I was marrying Stephanie Plum!

_Dear friends, family, loved ones,_

_we are gathered here today_

_to witness the joining together of_

_Stephanie Plum and Carlos Mañoso._

_May God, our Heavenly Father,_

_be present today during this sacred ceremony._

_We especially ask for your blessings upon this couple,_

_and upon all of us who share their joy._

_Rosa's POV_

"_Gracias a Dios_," I silently prayed as I listened to the English-speaking priest begin the Nuptial Mass. I nervously fingered the satin lapels of my lacy mauve suit and praised God again that this glorious day had finally arrived. My Carlito looked so handsome in his formal military uniform. I was so very proud to see how many colorful medals were pinned to his chest. And Estefania was simply the most beautiful bride I'd ever seen. I was amazed when Dawson showed me the wedding gown his protégé designed for herself. It was hanging in his office closet for safekeeping and I could hardly believe it hadn't been designed by Vera Wang or some other maker of gowns.

Dawson pretended to translate for me throughout the church service. My oldest granddaughter, Celia, gave the first reading about the establishment of marriage from the Book of Genesis. Her sister, Maria, gave the second reading about the nature of true love from Saint Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. Father Brady read from the Gospel of John and gave a nice little sermon about the mystery of Christian marriage, the dignity of wedded love, the grace of the sacrament and the responsibilities of married people. It all was so very beautiful and I thought my heart would burst with the love I felt for my Carlito and his lovely bride.

Happy tears threatened to ruin my carefully applied makeup. Lifting my lace-trimmed handkerchief to my face to dab at my teary eyes, I had to smile. The heirloom was quite old and very special to me. In fact, the delicate piece of cloth was almost identical to the one I had given to Estefania at the bridal shower Teresa had hosted in her honor last week. Oh, what a special time that was!

Of course, all four of my granddaughters were at the bridal shower, as well as Carmen, Carolina and Lucia. Also in attendance were Estefania's mother, Ellen Plum, the grandmother, Edna Mazur, and the older sister, Valerie. My sweet, naïve granddaughter, Maria, was my interpreter for the day and she didn't seem to notice how infrequently I asked for translations. Even so, it was a very interesting gathering and I had to work hard not to give away my closely-held secret.

From my observations I have decided that Edna Mazur is a fun person and the newly-divorced Valerie is somewhat uptight, but Ellen Plum thinks she is better than everyone else. I still wanted to slap the woman for all the trouble she has caused her daughter and my grandson. Thankfully, due to the "language barrier," I was able to avoid interacting directly with Estefania's mother for the most part.

"This is a great place you have here," Edna Mazur told Teresa as she settled onto the sofa, her plate piled high with our family favorites, such as chicken empanadas, tostones, papas rellenas and yucca fries. "This Cuban food is so tasty and your daughters are all so polite. I've been to your family's restaurant and your son, Alex, is a real good chef, too. Of course, Stephanie hit the jackpot with your younger son. That Carlos is a man among men, if you know what I mean." And she winked mischievously. "It's easy to see that you raised all of your children right."

Ellen Plum, who was sitting next to her mother, stiffened at the compliment, which was surely a subtle jab at her own childrearing prowess, or lack thereof. Then she said in a condescending tone, "And it's amazing the way everyone here speaks such good English." And she smiled an entirely fake smile.

Now I really wanted to slap the woman. What did she think; that our family had just jumped off the banana boat? Unfortunately, Maria had chosen not to translate the rude comment and only told me it was nothing important. I couldn't give away the fact that I had understood Mrs. Plum perfectly without giving up my entire charade, so I let the matter drop without letting my well-manicured fingernails scratch out her eyes.

Still, there was an awkward pause and I thought Celia might beat me to the punch, so to speak, but Estefania filled in the space by saying, "I'm hoping to understand and speak at least a bit of basic Spanish before Carlos and I have any children – which won't be right away, in case you were wondering." She cut her eyes toward her mother and it was obvious there had been some level of discussion about that. She continued, "I definitely want our children to be bilingual and I want to be able to understand what they're saying, too."

This time, Maria translated Stephanie's announcement, which made most of us smile. Part of the reason I maintained my charade of speaking only Spanish was to ensure that future generations of my family would continue to learn and converse in the language of our Cuban ancestors. Lately, though, I've been considering letting Carlos in on my secret. Dawson was relentless in his campaigning for me to do so, even though he knew I planned to keep the rest of my family in the dark. I realized it would make Estefania's life easier if she didn't have to pretend she couldn't understand me anymore. I just didn't know when or how I would do it.

After everyone had finished eating, the conversation turned to what everyone planned to wear to the wedding. My granddaughters and Estefania's sister compared notes and cell phone pictures of their dresses. Celia, Pilar, and Carmen had decided to wear red, while Maria, Lena, and Carolina would be wearing blue, and Valerie and Lucia would be wearing gold-toned dresses. Between the David's Bridal and Macy's stores, Teresa and Celia had been able to find beautiful off-the-rack gowns for every woman in the bridal party, as well as pretty white dresses with light blue bows around their bodices for the flower girls.

I'd heard from Teresa that Mrs. Plum had complained for several days about her dress for the wedding because she liked the design of Teresa's dress better than the design of the dress Teresa had found for her. Both dresses were pale blue, but one was much more form-fitting than the other. Apparently, Ellen Plum thought that she, as the mother of the bride, should have had first choice of the "mother" dresses. What a pain in the ass she is! I was glad when Celia told me Teresa had put Estefania's mother in her place by declaring she'd had no choice about the dresses because of the way each one fit a certain body type – and Teresa clearly had curves Ellen Plum did not possess.

Finally, it was time for Estefania to open her bridal shower gifts. While it's plainly obvious to anyone who has ever visited the townhouse where Carlos and Estefania live, they didn't really _need_ anything, we all wanted to give them _something_. Luckily, we had discovered that while the happy newlyweds would be living in military family housing at Fort Bragg, North Carolina for a year until Carlos transitioned out of the Army, their friends Tina and Lester Santos, who would be married a few weeks after them, would be subletting their Bel Aire townhouse while they were gone. They wouldn't be taking most of their furniture and other belongings with them; therefore, we all decided to "shower" Stephanie with typical household items and useful things for her temporary new home.

"Oh, Mom, this is, um, very … nice," Estefania said as she opened the gift from her mother first. It was a 6-quart electric crock pot.

The woman had the gall to look smug as she replied, "Well, I know how much you struggled to cook a decent meal for Dickie when you were married the first time, so I figured you could start off your next married life by learning to make a few simple dishes. I don't know why I didn't think of giving you one of these earlier. It even comes with a little cookbook to help you out."

By now, everyone in the Mañoso family knew about my son's infamous cooking lessons with Estefania. So there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Estefania could prepare a meal or two just fine, especially after Carlos had complimented his novia's cooking in front of the entire family. And even though my own cooking lessons with her still were mostly a secret, our family understood that Carlos' bride could make some of his favorite dishes already. Thankfully, no one made a comment about that and Estefania moved on to the other gifts.

By the time Estefania finished opening all of her presents, there was a huge pile of bed linens and bath towels, two comforter sets with matching pillow shams and dust ruffles, a small carousel filled with common kitchen utensils, casual stainless steel flatware for everyday use, a set of matching pot holders and dishtowels and a very practical vacuum cleaner. It was a very traditional showering of gifts and none of the gifts were what you could call exciting, but we could see that Estefania truly appreciated everything we had given her.

Dawson told me the five ladies who made up the bridal party, as well as several of the other women who worked at Books/Plum Designs, had given Estefania a much different bridal shower at the office. Apparently, all the gifts at _that_ gathering were the type of risqué lingerie and other sexy "bedroom items" from a certain shop called "Pleasure Treasures." Dawson assured me his company most certainly did not now nor would it ever sell such merchandise. From my husband's description of all the hooting and laughter, it sounded like the office shower was a lot of fun and I wish I had been there, if only to take notes. But I passed on what I knew to Teresa so that she and Celia could plan accordingly, because one or two of my granddaughters had originally planned to give Estefania "special" lingerie, too.

After Estefania thanked us all for her wonderfully useful gifts, Teresa cleared her throat and asked everyone to be quiet and pay attention for two final gifts. Then she addressed Estefania, "Everyone knows the old English saying, 'Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a silver sixpence in her shoe, right?' Well, Carlos informed us that your Maid of Honor, Tina, took care of the 'something borrowed'– a silver sixpence she picked up in London – at the other bridal shower. And your father will be providing the 'something new' very soon. Carlos also said that he himself will be taking care of the 'something blue' before the big day. So we searched around for 'something old' and we came up with the following gifts. These are from the, er … most _mature_ women in our gathering today." And she placed two small, flat boxes in Estefania's hands.

"Mature? Hah!" Edna Mazur cackled with amusement. "You can go ahead and call me 'old.' I don't know about Miss Rosa over there, looking all pretty and proper, but I'm _old_ and I'm damn proud of it!"

I merely smiled – after I allowed Maria to translate for me, of course. Then I watched in anticipation as Estefania opened each box and lifted out the delicate handkerchiefs, one each from both Edna Mazur and myself. Although both linens were older than practically everyone else in the room, the floral needlework on the Hungarian handkerchief was every bit as exquisite as the fine lacework of the Spanish one. Tears of pride and gratitude filled Estefania's eyes as she thanked her grandmother and then me.

I spoke and waited for Maria's translation, "Abuela Rosa says, 'You are most welcome, my dear. And I hope you will also consent to borrow some of the happiness Dawson and I have felt ever since your presence in our lives brought us together. We are so pleased you have decided to join our family, even after such an inauspicious beginning.' I'm not sure exactly what she's talking about with that last part, but that's what she said."

Estefania's eyes twinkled at me and I knew she definitely understood what I meant when she explained to everyone, "It's a long story that we'll save for another time, but for now, let's just say the Mañoso men thought they were pretty slick and I showed them how very mistaken they were."

Such an understatement! Even so, I know our men were amazed when we were able to pull everything together for the wedding in such a short time. As they say, "Where there's a will, there's a way." Actually, Estefania had already done most of the preliminary work, so even though we'd had less than a month to plan and prepare for the special event, we were able to do what we needed to do to make it happen. Of course, the Mañoso family name – and Carlos' money – opened many doors that ordinary brides might have had trouble even sticking their toes through.

The florist Carlos had been using all year was more than happy to accommodate every one of our requests. It helped that the flowers Estefania had chosen were simple; white calla lilies with stephanotis and white rose accents for everyone to hold or wear, as well as for the decorative floral arrangements. And my family has always been such good customers to the DiPaolo family; they had very little difficulty committing to making the wedding cake for the reception on such short notice. We also were amazed at the small Superman and Wonder Woman designs the DiPaolo bakers created with fondant for the bridal shower cakes. The ladies with cameras took a lot of photos before Estefania cut slices out of the whimsical desserts.

"Oh, look how cute those cakes are!" Edna Mazur exclaimed as Estefania placed small squares of cake on the plates Celia handed to her. "Say, Stephanie, why exactly did you want superhero designs?"

Estefania blushed and said, "Well, to make a long story short, several years ago, some of Carlos' Army buddies gave him the nickname 'Superman' and, of course, it suits him perfectly. And when I was a little girl, I always wanted to be like Wonder Woman. So when Carlos and I were first getting to know each other, we sort of discovered these things and the names have just stuck."

"Yeah, I remember how much trouble you used to get into because you thought you could fly like Wonder Woman," Valerie grinned at her sister.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" gushed Lena. "I used to think I could fly, too."

Pilar snorted, "But _you_ thought you were a fairy, like Tinkerbell, not a superhero, like Wonder Woman."

Lena glared at Pilar until Estefania distracted them by asking, "Who wants chocolate cake and who wants vanilla?"

Many voices jumbled together, but we all heard Ellen Plum's derisive comment, "Oh dear, it looks like the bakers got the cakes wrong. The Superman cake is vanilla and the Wonder Woman cake is chocolate. Shouldn't they be the other way around?"

While the rest of us grew quiet at the implied insult, Estefania didn't miss a beat. "Nope," she calmly said, "This is exactly what I requested. C'mon, Mom, you _know_ chocolate cake is my absolute favorite. Well, besides pineapple upside down cake. Or maybe cheesecake. Or a nice yellow batter birthday cake. _Mmmm_. So many good desserts; I guess it's hard to make a choice." Then she told everyone about the special DiPaolo Brothers deliveries Carlos had arranged for her while he was away. When she finished her story she said, "So trust me, Mom, these cakes are _perfect_ just as they are!" And she grinned widely.

Apparently, my Carlito's novia was choosing not to engage her mother in any heated battles. She was a better woman than I would have been. Unfortunately, my dear sweetheart of a granddaughter, Maria, wouldn't translate very much of Mrs. Plum's commentary, so I couldn't show my true reactions. It was very frustrating! Of course, after swallowing so many of my own unspoken replies, I had to have a piece of _both_ cakes. And they both were, as Estefania had said, perfect.

It's a good thing my Carlito decided it would be best to keep his future mother-in-law under close watch during the wedding so she couldn't cause too much mischief. Now, as I glanced across the aisle at the woman, I noticed she kept glancing toward the back of the chapel. I quickly peeked in the same direction, but I couldn't tell what or who she was looking for, so I returned my attention to Father Brady, who was moving on to the Rite of Marriage.

_Dear friends,_

_you have come together in this church_

_so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love_

_in the presence of the Church's minister and this community._

_Christ abundantly blesses this love._

_Carlos and Stephanie,_

_God has already consecrated you in baptism_

_and now he enriches and strengthens you_

_by a special sacrament_

_so that you may assume the duties of marriage_

_in mutual and lasting fidelity._

_And so, in the presence of the Church,_

_unless anyone here among the assembly has any objections,_

_please state your intentions._

_Ellen's POV_

"_Where is he?_" I thought to myself after I struggled, unsuccessfully, to catch a glimpse through the crowd to the back of the chapel. "_Joseph should have been here by now. I can't believe the crucial moment is passing us by. I wish the Morelli boy had been here to speak up for himself, because I can't do it for him. And there's no way I can stand up and object to this terrible wedding now. Frank would kill me for sure if I did that. He already warned me to keep my mouth shut, no matter what, or else he would escort me out the doors of the chapel himself. _

_He really has turned against me. He even gave Stephanie a new gold locket at that farce of a rehearsal dinner at McDonald's. He said it was a private gift only from himself, and I ended up looking like a fool. What a selfish man! I'll bet it was his stupid idea for Stephanie to not give me a rose from her bridal bouquet. I never would've thought my own daughter could be so heartless and cruel. Well, now that I know how things really stand between us, I'll just keep my distance until the grandchildren arrive. _

_And I can't believe Valerie brought that Alberto person to the wedding as her date. She knows how I feel about him – he's not good enough for her or my granddaughters. For crying out loud! He's a silly computer technician who works for Stephanie's underwear company. Oh, well, I guess I've lost the battles with both Valerie and Stephanie, but there's still a chance with my grandchildren. Who knows? JJ's sons have such adorable children, perhaps I'll be able to make good matches between them and my own grandchildren someday. We shall see who gets the last word then, won't we? _

_Of course, JJ wouldn't be happy if he knew I had contacted the Morelli boy, but I thought he at least deserved the opportunity to put an end to all this nonsense with Stephanie and her ridiculous plans. Sigh! I guess Joseph Morelli decided he didn't really want a final chance at stopping this wedding after all. And I can't believe I went through all the trouble of getting his e-mail address and sending him a copy of the wedding e-vite and everything. What a wasted effort! _

_Maybe JJ will get here in time to accompany me to the reception. It's too bad he got called away to handle a big case this morning, but I hope it won't take him too much longer to wrap things up. I would hate to go to that Cuban place by myself, so if JJ doesn't get here before lunch is served, maybe I'll just go home after we're finished with the receiving line. Hmph! The food's probably not going to be that good anyway._"

_Stephanie's POV_

Omigod! When everyone stood up and Father Brady said "unless anyone here among the assembly has any objections," I heard my mother clear her throat. I don't know what she was thinking – well, actually, I suppose I do know – but I refused to turn and look at her. I suppose Daddy or Valerie or Grandma Mazur must have warned her off. Thankfully, no one objected to our union and the moment passed quickly. Now it's really happening; Carlos and I are getting _married_!

My breath caught in my throat as Father Brady continued, "Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, Jr. and Stephanie Michelle Plum, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

"Yes," Carlos replied in his strong, deep voice.

"Yes," I squeaked and then cleared my throat. I heard a few soft giggles behind me.

"Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

"Yes," we both replied confidently. No more squeaking for me.

"Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

Again, we both said, "Yes." Although I'm pretty sure both Carlos and I were in agreement about waiting a few years until he was out of the Army and his security business was firmly established. No need for any explanations today, though.

Father Brady's eyes grew warmer toward us and he said, "Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, please join your hands together, and declare your consent before God and his Church."

No problem there! As a concession to Father Brady's spiritual guidance, Carlos and I hadn't slept in the same bed for the past three days and I'd been longing for his touch the entire time. I handed my bouquet to Mary Lou and turned back to Carlos. His fingers felt warm and reassuring as his hand gently curled around mine, but I could feel the electricity pulsing between us. Oh boy! In that instant, the cavernous chapel and everyone in it melted away and it was just me and Carlos, alone with each other and nothing else in the whole wide world mattered. I felt my knees go weak, but Carlos squeezed my hand and brought me back to the moment at hand, so to speak.

Turning toward Carlos, Father Brady asked, "Carlos, do you take Stephanie for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, promising to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honor her all the days of your life?"

"I do," he replied.

Then it was my turn. Father Brady smiled at me and asked, "Stephanie, do you take Carlos for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, promising to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honor him all the days of your life?"

I couldn't help myself as I answered enthusiastically, "I do, I do, I _do_!"

There were many chuckles and a few outright guffaws behind us. Even Father Brady looked as though he was biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, but I didn't care. So what if everyone knew how much I wanted to marry this awesome man standing beside me?

After clearing his throat, Father Brady said, "You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide."

Everyone said, "Amen."

Then Alex placed our shiny, diamond wedding bands, as well as my engagement ring, into the palm of Father Brady's outstretched hand. Earlier this morning, I'd taken off my engagement ring and Tina had delivered it to Alex for safe-keeping until the ceremony. I had also stored my opal ring with my special charm bracelet and the other jewelry I'd already packed away for the honeymoon. My hands had never felt so naked.

"I brung the rings real good. Right, Papa?" Ricky's sweet little voice rang out over the silence of the chapel. Alex patted his young son's shoulder and nodded. Then he placed his index finger to his lips to remind the boy to be quiet. There were a few more quiet chuckles and then everyone settled down again.

Continuing on to the blessing of the rings, Father Brady said, "Lord, bless and consecrate Carlos and Stephanie in their love for each other. May these rings be a symbol of true faith in each other, and always remind them of their love, through Christ our Lord."

"Amen."

After Carlos received my ring from Father Brady, he said, "Stephanie, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

I was briefly mesmerized by the eternity band of blue diamond baguettes channel set in platinum as Carlos slid it onto my finger and gently settled it into its proper place. It was soooo gorgeous! Then he slid my engagement ring onto my finger until it was nestled up next to the wedding band. The set looked incredible together and everything matched the fabulous blue diamond necklace, bracelet and earrings Carlos had given to me the previous night after our extremely casual 'rehearsal dinner' at a McDonald's restaurant. I was one lucky girl! When I gazed up into Carlos' warm chocolate eyes, I nervously nibbled on my bottom lip. We were doing this. We were _really_ doing this! I could hardly believe this was happening.

Then Father Brady placed Carlos' ring into the palm of my hand. It felt so heavy! The thick platinum band looked very masculine with its simple design and the channel-set black diamonds embedded all the way around it. It suited him perfectly. I just stared at the ring for a long moment before I remembered what I was supposed to be doing. Carlos' eyes had turned bright with amusement while he'd been waiting for me to get a grip.

I took a deep, calming breath and said, "Carlos, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

My hand shook slightly as I slowly slid the ring onto Carlos' ring finger. It was so long and strong. Remembering all the places on my body his fingers had explored – and would explore again very soon – I felt my knees begin to weaken again. I could feel his pulse quicken when I licked my lips in concentration. I knew I needed to stay in the moment, so I quickly finished my task. Then we both turned back to face Father Brady, who had been waiting patiently for us. He seemed to be somewhat amused.

"May you keep this covenant you have made today before God and all these witnesses. May you bless each other in your marriage, comforting each other when one needs comfort, sharing each other's joys when one needs someone to share it, and helping each other in all your endeavors throughout your married life together. And now, by the power vested in me by God and by the laws of the state of New Jersey, I pronounce you husband and wife," Father Brady told us. Then he turned to Carlos and said, "You may now kiss your bride."

I turned toward Carlos and he gently framed my face with his hands before he whispered, "Te amo, Stephanie, siempre y para siempre." Then he kissed me once lightly on my lips before I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a better kiss. Somewhere in the back of my mind I recognized the sound of applause, and maybe a wolf-whistle or two. I could have stayed there forever, deepening the kiss until we consumed each other, but the priest cleared his throat to remind us the Mass was not over yet.

Oh, God! How I wished it could've been over at that point, but there was much more to do. After the kiss, Carlos and I approached the altar to light the unity candle. Two of Carlos' older nephews, who were serving as our altar boys, accompanied one of the church's deacons as they brought in the gifts for the Liturgy of the Eucharist, or the wine and wafers for Holy Communion. The organist played a lovely rendition of the song "_Ave Maria_" while I took the candle Grandma Mazur lit earlier and Carlos took the candle his Abuela Rosa lit and together we lit the larger pillar-style candle representing the union of our two families. Although Celia planned to retrieve the candles for us after the Mass and preserve them for us, I knew the flame would burn on symbolically forever and ever.

We carefully walked back to our place in front of the altar. I couldn't believe I hadn't set myself on fire or tripped on my gown yet. Tina straightened my train and quickly whispered congratulations. Mary Lou was still holding my bouquet and I noticed tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. We exchanged a brief smile and I returned my attention to the Mass.

After we finished "The Lord's Prayer" in unison with everyone, Father Brady said, "My dear friends, let us pray to the Lord for Carlos and Stephanie, who come to God's altar at the beginning of their married life so that they may always be united in love for each other as now they share in the body and blood of Christ."

There was a moment of silence and then the priest lifted his hands over Carlos and me and continued with the Nuptial Blessing, a prayer specifically for us. My mind was filled with so many happy thoughts, I barely heard his words. Toward the end of his long prayer for our happiness and well-being in any and all situations, though, one line in particular stuck in my heart: "May they reach old age in the company of their friends." Well, I could certainly say "Amen!" to that.

During the Sign of Peace, Carlos and I kissed again before shaking hands only with the priest and his deacon. We intentionally kept that part of the Mass very brief. Then, for the first time as a married couple in the sight of God, Carlos and I shared Holy Communion. It felt very special. Afterward we waited, our hands clasped together, and watched as our families and friends came up and received communion from Father Brady and the deacon. My face actually hurt from smiling so much.

Finally, _finally_, Father Brady gave the final blessing, "Whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder. May the Lord bless and keep you. May the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious unto you. May the Lord lift up His countenance unto you, and give you peace. Amen."

After everyone echoed the final "Amen," Father Brady gave us the signal and we turned around to face the crowd. Then he said, "May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Carlos Mañoso."

The applause was deafening.

Omigod! Carlos and I are really and truly married now. This… really… happened! And boy, oh boy, was it good.


	55. Chapter 55 Chapter 139

**CHAPTER 139**

_Stephanie's POV_

_Yippee! I'm married to Carlos! I, Stephanie Michelle Plum, am now married to Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, Jr.! He's my husband and I'm his wife! It's really happened. Thank God I'm a member of the Mañoso family now! I'm so happy! I'm deliriously happy! Carlos and I are finally married! Omigod! Omigod!_

These were the thoughts racing through my mind as Carlos and I proceeded to walk down the aisle toward the open back doors of the chapel. The organist was playing our very traditional recessional song, Beethoven's '_Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee_,' for all it was worth. People were applauding and snapping photographs and cheering and smiling and I knew we were smiling back at them. I was so ecstatic I practically floated beside my new husband. In fact, I think it was only my Superman's super strength that kept me from floating up and away into the rafters of the church.

I could hardly wait for Carlos and me to make our escape and have some 'quality time' alone before the reception. Although I'm glad I followed Father Brady's advice and convinced Carlos to abstain from sleeping with me for the last three days prior to our wedding, my body was screaming for the release only Carlos could give me. As we drew nearer to the chapel doors, all I could think about was how we should be able to consummate our marriage between now and arriving at the reception. I was giddy at the thought of making it happen in the back of the limousine on our way over to _Rosa's_. My mood fell slightly, though, when I noticed one of our official photographers snapping away with his camera and realized we were far from being done here at the chapel. Ugh!

One of the not-so-great things about our early morning wedding was that there wasn't enough time prior to the ceremony to take any of the 'staged' photographs for the wedding album. Sure, the multimedia photography team Carlos had hired to record our special day for all posterity had been able to take candid shots of Carlos and me getting ready – separately, of course – and they had videotaped the entire wedding ceremony, but they hadn't been able to take any of the 'official' photos. Now that the wedding ceremony was over, it was time for everyone to smile prettily for the camera in the various family group poses, and poses with just the bridesmaids, and poses with just the groomsmen, and so on.

The plan was for everyone in the wedding party to exit through the back of the church after the recessional and then loop around to the side entrance of the chapel and re-enter the building for the staged photos. This would also allow all of our guests to file out of the chapel and congregate along the outside steps of the church building to wait for Carlos and me to re-exit through the traditional military saber arch on our way to the limo, which would then ferry us to the reception. It was a good plan when we discussed it, but it just didn't work out that way. Go figure!

As soon as our sweet little ring bearer, Ricky, got outside, he decided it would be fun to pick a booger out of his cute little nose and chase the flower girls around the grassy lawn yelling, "The Boogie Man's gonna get you!" over and over until his mother scooped him up, wiped off his finger with a tissue and gave his cute little bottom a few swift whacks with the open palm of her hand. Of course, this set off a fit of tears and wailing. Then Alex took Ricky around the corner for a little man-to-man talk while the photographers snapped away. The good news was that by the time Ricky was calm and he and all the girls looked presentable enough for their close-ups, the majority of the staged photos were done.

Naturally, my mother complained about how long it was taking and she kept checking her cell phone for messages, but I ignored her whininess. Daddy, Valerie and I all remembered the excruciatingly long photo sessions from our first weddings. Mom had insisted we hire her best friend from high school's son, Elroy Maschewicz, as our photographer back then and he was the world's slowest man. I swear, every request he made was in slow motion and he made you just want to reach into his throat and pull the words out faster. In comparison, today's photo shoot was a breeze.

The only time I had let go of my new husband's hand was when the photographers needed us to be in separate photo shots. After they finished taking all of the photo poses we had requested, they left us to set up for Carlos' and my final descent from the cathedral stairs. All of the men who were dressed in uniforms also left us to get into position for the military arch of sabers. Carlos tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. Then we stood behind the closed doors of the chapel and waited for the signal to come out and greet all our family and friends. Before we exited the chapel, though, Carlos kissed me so hard I had to wipe my shimmery lipstick off of his lips.

"Oh, God, I needed that!" I exclaimed and I took a deep breath to calm myself.

"You're looking a little wild-eyed there, Mrs. Mañoso," he grinned down at me and my heart fluttered at him calling me 'Mrs. Mañoso.' Then he blew it when he teased, "How are those three days of abstinence feeling _now_?"

I merely glared at him and asked, "Is there any lipstick left on _my_ lips?" And I used the pad of my thumb to get the last speck of my Estée Lauder "Tiramisu" color off of the corner of his mouth.

He playfully nipped at my thumb and replied, "Babe, you look fine. You look better than fine. In fact, you look so fine, I'm going to have to take you someplace private and ravish you before we get to the reception." And he kissed the palm of my hand.

My knees went weak, but I giggled, "Here's a newsflash, Superman: There are a bajillion well-wishers outside those chapel doors. The only privacy we're likely to have is in the limo from here to the restaurant."

Carlos shook his head. "No, Babe, not even there."

"What do mean?" I asked. "Is someone riding with us?"

"Nope," he grinned slyly. "What I mean is that we don't actually have a limo this morning."

"No limo?" I gasped in horror. "What happened?"

"I reserved a … _different_ mode of transportation for us," he replied. "And, unfortunately, there's no privacy. You'll see."

Just then, the chapel doors began to swing open and there was no more time for me to interrogate my Man of Mystery. I smiled widely as I stepped over the threshold beside Carlos. Two rows of uniform-clad men stood facing each other immediately in front of us, with Tank being the closest to Carlos and Diego Rivera was directly across from him, closest to me. The guys looked so handsome in their dress uniforms, but they also looked so somber and serious. Carlos had explained this part of the ceremony to me so that I would know when to pause in order for the photographers to get all their shots.

"Draw … _Sabers_!" Tank's deep voice startled me when he barked out his orders.

The sleek sound of the metal sabers being drawn out of their scabbards was so cool!

I was somewhat more prepared when Tank called out, "Arch … _Sabers_!"

All of the soldiers lifted their sabers first toward their faces and then upward toward each other to create the arch of sabers under which Carlos and I would walk. We entered the arch slowly and I made a special effort to look into the face of each man as we passed through. But before we could exit the arch, Bobby and Lester, who were the last two men, dropped their sabers into a position that prevented us from going any further.

Behind us, Tank announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is our distinct honor to present to you Captain and Mrs. Ricardo Carlos Mañoso!"

Everyone gathered on and around the stairs applauded. I could hear the whirring and clicking of many cameras and several of our guests whistled quite loudly. I almost forgot what was supposed to happen next.

"You know the price, sir," Lester said solemnly, but with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Indeed I do," Carlos replied. Then he turned to me, lifted my chin and kissed me.

The assembled crowd cheered even louder while we kissed. Then Lester and Bobby lifted their sabers into an arch once more and we moved forward toward the stairs. Suddenly, I felt something hit my ass and I realized Bobby had gently swatted me with the flat side of his saber.

When I turned to glare at him, he grinned and exclaimed, "Welcome to the Army, Ma'am!" Then he winked and nodded at Carlos, who was barely containing his own grin, and he lifted his saber back into its raised position.

Apparently, as Carlos later explained to me, this "spanking" was a long-standing tradition of the military saber arch at weddings. While the arch itself symbolized a couple's safe transition into their new life together, the "saber swat" was a gentle reminder of the probable hardships the bride would face in the future. A lovely thought. _Not!_

As we descended the steps of the church, our guests blew jillions of bubbles at us. The young kids loved it and were having fun running in front of us and blowing as many bubbles at us as they could, while the adults enjoyed a more sedate approach, standing on the sidelines and letting their bubbles drift our way. Carlos popped as many as he could while I tried to catch as many as possible without popping them. It was so much fun! I was having such a good time swatting at the clear orbs floating all around us; I didn't realize our transportation had arrived. And no, it wasn't a limousine. Carlos had arranged for something I never would've expected – an open, horse-drawn carriage, just like the ones in Central Park!

"Omigod!" I exclaimed when Carlos led me to the carriage. "When you said we didn't have a limo, I was thinking you got us a vintage convertible or something, but this…"

"This is something different, romantic," Carlos murmured into my ear. "I thought you'd like it."

"Like it?" I exclaimed. "I _love_ it!"

Carlos winked at the liveried driver, who grinned back at us. He held the carriage door open while Carlos helped me into the open back seat of the carriage and then hopped in beside me. The man bowed graciously toward us and then closed the door behind us after we were settled on the velvet-covered seat. Our guests continued to cheer and blow bubbles at us. Carlos kissed me again before giving the driver the signal to take off. The beautiful white horses trotted through the streets of Newark and then into a park, where they slowed down to a walk so that we could meander for a while and enjoy the scenery. This was my Prince Charming fairytale come true!

As we rode along, Carlos explained to me that our ride would last for thirty minutes while our wedding party and guests traveled to _Rosa's_ for the reception. Once there, our military groomsmen and ushers would change out of their uniforms and into standard black tuxedos. Carlos also would change into his tuxedo as soon as we arrived at the restaurant. Tina would help me adjust the train of my gown by fastening the extra material onto a row of small buttons, which were cleverly disguised among the beadwork. Then I would be able to move around freely without the constant danger of tripping on the hem of the lovely gown.

A thought occurred to me and I suddenly sat up and asked, "Carlos, where's our luggage?"

"What luggage?" he replied and the arm he had wrapped around my shoulder gently pulled me in closer to him.

A terrible feeling crept over me and I said, "The luggage for our honeymoon! I put it all in the trunk of the limo that drove me and my bridal party to the church this morning. Omigod! If that limo driver has gone back to his company already, we might never get our bags back! I have all my honeymoon clothes and makeup and … and my _charm bracelet_!" I wailed, beginning to hyperventilate a little.

Carlos sighed and began to stroke my bare shoulder. "Relax, Babe. I'm sure everything's been taken care of so that we'll be able to get ready for the cruise before we leave."

"How sure?" I pulled back and asked skeptically.

"_Very_ sure," he chuckled. "Remember, we had to have all of our stuff out of the church so that the next wedding party could get in there, but my men and I still needed a place to change into our tuxes before the reception. Because of this, my mother ordered Alex to give up one of the storage rooms at the restaurant so that Celia and Pilar could set it up as a changing room for everyone. Abuela Rosa borrowed a rolling garment rack from Dawson, who also provided a free-standing mirror and a padded bench from your office building for our use today. Lena and Maria's husbands already took most of our luggage over to _Rosa's_ before the ceremony even started."

"Oh, that's so nice!" I exclaimed. "I _love_ your family. They've taken care of so many details for this day."

"It's _our_ family now, Stephanie, and you made it easy for them," he replied with a casual shrug. "Especially after you gave me the three-ring binder in which you'd been gathering all your wedding ideas and plans together. As you know, I committed the entire book to memory, handed it off to my mother, and she took over from there. Of course, Mama kept me informed of every decision along the way, and I assure you, everything has worked out better than any military operation I've ever been a part of. In fact, I think my mother would have made a very good Army General."

"Remind me to recruit her for my next corporate luncheon," I quipped.

Carlos laughed. "I understand your feelings, but I think my father would be offended if you did that. He is, after all the _professional_ caterer in the family."

"Yikes! How could I forget that?" I said as I shuddered. "I certainly wouldn't want to cause any friction between your parents."

"They'll be fine, Babe," he murmured against my skin. "You gotta learn to keep the faith." And he continued to nuzzle my neck.

"That's easy for _you_ to say; _your_ parents aren't going through a divorce," I retorted, but soon I felt my body melting under Carlos' heated kisses along my jaw until he reached my lips. "Oh, God, yes!" I gasped as I felt his free hand sliding up my leg.

"Hmm… what's this?" he asked as his fingers plucked at the satin-and-lace-covered elastic band around my thigh.

Blushing, I said, "Oh, that's just my garter. Mary Lou gave it to me at my bridal shower. She picked it out with you in mind. It's blue and it's got your Superman logo all over it. She didn't know you were going to give me all these magnificent blue diamonds." And she gently caressed the diamond pendant resting above her décolleté.

"Now I can't wait to see it," he said as he playfully snapped the garter against my sensitive skin and I felt a tiny jolt of excitement whiz through my entire body.

"Hey!" I protested. "Be careful with that thing. You'll see it right before you have to toss it at your groomsmen during that part of the reception."

His grin was wicked before he started kissing me again. "I _am_ … being careful," he murmured between kisses. "See, Querida? I'm carefully … making my way … up to your … damn!" His quiet exclamation was in response to the resistance of the delicate fabric of my wedding gown.

"What's … the … matter?" I panted between his steamy kisses.

"This dress," Carlos grumbled. "The way it hugs your curves is amazing, Babe, but it fits too closely for me to go any further than this." Then his fingers tickled a sensitive point on my inner thigh and I yelped in surprise. "At least, not while you're in a seated position."

When I sighed and looked away, I made eye contact with a young boy in the park as we passed by him and he pointed at us. A woman who looked like she was probably the boy's mother smiled and urged her son to wave at us. She was holding the boy's hand and in her other hand a little white puppy strained at its leash to chase the carriage. It was then that I realized how truly open the carriage was. For that reason only, it was a good thing Carlos couldn't get his hand all the way up my dress, but we needed to find some privacy – fast!

In frustration, Carlos withdrew his hand from beneath my gown and consoled himself with more kisses. We settled into a rhythm of kissing for a while, then we enjoyed the scenery in the park before we kissed some more. By the time our ride was over, though, I was so horny I thought I'd die if I didn't get some of Carlos' good lovin' real soon.

_Carlos' POV_

_Dios! I'm finally married to Stephanie! She is mine and I am hers – forever and ever – amen! I've just got to hold it together until I can find a nice secluded spot to get naked with my Babe. We need to consummate this marriage as soon as possible. Now! Before I explode! Where the hell is that dressing room my mother promised would be ready for us?_

These were the thoughts coursing through my mind as Stephanie and I hopped out of the horse-drawn carriage when it arrived at the front entrance of _Rosa's_. Many of our guests, including a large number of my nieces and nephews had gathered there to blow more bubbles at us while we hurried inside to get to the storage room we'd be using as a changing room. I knew it looked like I was dragging my new bride through the place, but that was just too damn bad. We needed privacy – ASAP!

Thankfully, no one was in the hallway outside of the makeshift changing room, so we charged right in. Stephanie ran into my back when I came to an abrupt halt. The entire room was draped with white sheets and decorated with white twinkle lights wrapped around garlands of silk ivy. There was a sheet-covered bench on one side of the room and a wood-framed, full-length mirror in a corner next to some wooden chairs. A garment rack already held several hangers of military uniforms, as well as the tuxedo I'd be wearing momentarily and the more casual outfits Stephanie and I planned to change into before we left the reception. My sisters truly had outdone themselves.

Standing in front of the mirror were Javier and Miguel, who were just pinning their boutonnieres onto their tuxedo lapels. After making a quick assessment of the number of uniforms already hanging on the garment rack, I figured they must have been the last ones to change into their tuxedos. I didn't want to be too obvious, but I needed them to leave the room, whether they were ready or not.

Miguel turned and grinned at us. "Hey, Superman, it's great to see you and your lovely bride looking so happy. How was the carriage ri-?" But I cut him off.

"Later!" I growled and I began to usher him and Javier out of the room.

"But, wait, there's something we need to tell you before-" Javier began, but I cut him off, too, almost shouting, "Leave us! _Now_!"

I was being rude to my friends, but at that precise moment, I just didn't care. Somehow, though, I think they had an idea of what was going to happen next because Javier merely smirked and said, "Our news can wait. We'll stand guard." Then they hurried out of the room. Although I could hear their soft chuckles and knew they weren't really offended by me throwing them out of the room, I also knew I'd end up apologizing to them later.

As soon as the door was closed, I jammed a chair against its handle to prevent any unwanted interruptions. I didn't give Stephanie a chance to say anything; I just held her close and kissed her deeply. While my tongue danced with her tongue, I carefully untied the laces on the back of her dress and pushed the loosened material down her body until she could step out of the pool of fabric at her feet. When I looked down at her, I was stunned.

"Well," she said as she tilted her head to one side in a provocative manner. "Do you like what you see? I sure hope so, 'cause it's all yours now."

There she was – my _wife_ – standing before me with barely anything on. Sure, there was some sort of a lacy corset-looking thing up top, which was almost entirely see-through. And there was a skimpy white garter belt holding up Stephanie's sheer white silk stockings. Also, there was the Superman garter, just as I had felt it, a few inches above her knee. Of course, she was still wearing her silver and blue high-heeled sandals and all of the blue diamond jewelry I had given her, including her new wedding band. But there were no panties – nothing was covering her pretty little ass, _nada_ - not even my personal favorite thong-type of panties, which wouldn't really have covered her ass anyway. Dios! My Babe had gone through our entire wedding ceremony, as well as the carriage ride, _commando_. That realization nearly short-circuited my brain.

"_Like it?_" I replied before I whistled low. "Damn, Babe, you _know_ I love it!"

It only took me a few seconds to shed my uniform and then I was kissing Stephanie again. My lips never left hers as I picked her up, carried her over to the bench seat, which was not quite big enough for both of us to be comfortable, and positioned myself over her beautiful, partially-clad body. I was so turned on, there was barely enough time for me to cover myself with a condom before I slid inside of her welcoming warmth.

"Oh, Carlos," she moaned. "Omigod! Yes! Yes! _Yessssss_!"

I swallowed Stephanie's moans with deep kisses before she became too loud. Coming so hard and fast like this wasn't exactly how I'd wanted our first time as a married couple to go, but there was no stopping it. My need for her had overwhelmed my ability to think straight and all I knew was that I had to be joined with her before I went insane.

It took a few moments for my heart to settle down. All the while, I kept kissing and caressing my Babe, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she finally looked at me with her sapphire gaze, it took my breath away. Stephanie Plum was mine, totally mine now, my _wife_. As she shifted under me and winced, I realized my full weight was pressing her down uncomfortably and I slightly lifted my body off of hers.

"Are you okay, Babe?"

"_Mmm hmm_," she nodded and licked her lips. It was such a sexy move; I had to kiss her again. When I lifted my head to gaze down at her, she grinned up at me and murmured, "There goes my lipstick again."

I laughed and reluctantly got up before my body mutinied. If I stayed on top of Stephanie for a single moment more, we would never make it out to the reception. Soon, our guests would begin to wonder where we were. Remembering that we would be by ourselves aboard a cruise ship by the end of the day, I forced myself to regain control. Then I grasped my lovely bride's hand and pulled her to her feet. She was not very steady.

"Whoa! I think I just felt the earth move," Stephanie said as she swayed unsteadily. In our frenzy to consummate our marriage, she hadn't even taken off her high-heeled sandals. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she groaned. "Omigod! I'm a total mess! It's gonna take me _forever_ to put myself back together."

She was, of course, the most beautiful woman in the world to me, and as my eyes scanned her body from bottom to top, all I could say in response was, "Babe!"

I quickly picked up my discarded clothes and neatly hung them on the garment rack. Stephanie readjusted her lacy undergarments and then staggered over to one of her suitcases to dig out whatever she needed in order to put herself back together. Sadly, the first thing she did was put on a pair of white lace thong panties before she stepped back into her wedding gown. In no time at all, I was dressed in my tuxedo trousers and white shirt. While I was lacing up Stephanie's wedding gown, I could hear the muffled sounds of an argument in Spanish happening outside the storage room door. Obviously, our private time was over and someone from my family had found us. There was a soft knock at the door and I opened it slightly to peek out.

Javier had a pained expression on his face and he whispered, "Lo siento mucho, Carlos, pero tu Abuela era muy insistente." ["_I'm very sorry, Carlos, but your Grandmother was very insistent._"]

Suddenly, there she was – my Abuela Rosa – pushing past Javier and nudging the door open. The expression on her face was a cross between annoyed and amused. I opened my mouth to ask her to give Stephanie and me a few moments, but she merely pushed her way inside of the makeshift dressing room and closed the door behind her.

She glanced at Stephanie and then grinned slyly at me before saying, "Ah, veo que has hecho tu novia muy feliz ya hoy. Buen chico!" And she lovingly patted the side of my face, just as she had done so many times when I was growing up. [_"Ah, I see you've made your bride very happy already today. Good boy!"_]

I didn't know what to say. I'm sure the scent of our recent lovemaking must have lingered in the air of the small room, but I couldn't do anything about it. And I still remembered the horror of seeing my grandmother's face out the window of the rented Porsche as she watched my Babe and me having car sex before I left for my mission.

"No te preocupe, mi Carlito. Estoy aquí para ayudarte." Abuela Rosa continued in Spanish, "Y estoy aquí para pedir tu ayuda a cambio del favor." [_"Do not worry, my dear Carlos. I am here to help you." "And I am here to request your help in return for the favor."]_

Then she smiled warmly at Stephanie and said, in slightly-accented English, "My dear, it is time."

Stephanie nibbled on her lower lip as she adjusted the bodice of her dress and whispered, "Are you sure?"

My Abuela nodded her head and replied, "Quite sure. But only for the sake of your marriage."

I grinned and said, "Let me guess, Abuela; you can understand _and_ speak English, can't you?"

"Shhh, not so loud," my grandmother hushed me. Then she walked over to Stephanie and plucked the hairbrush out of her hand. "Here, allow me to fix your hair while we explain it to him. Speak softly, though, because this information is for Carlos' ears only."

And with that, my devious grandmother and my complicit wife told me a fantastical tale of listening at doors and peeking around large potted plants and exchanging mysterious letters and packages. Abuela Rosa told me about their meetings at the Books/Plum office and Stephanie described the cooking lessons, which occurred after the discovery of my father's idiotic deceptions. Their stories came out rather jumbled, but I was able to understand the bottom line. What I had suspected all along was true: Abuela Rosa not only understood English, but she could speak the language fluently. As soon as Stephanie's hair looked like it had before we'd made love, she thanked my grandmother and began to reapply her makeup.

Abuela Rosa turned to look at me, with her hands clasped in front of her, and said, "Your loyal wife does not wish to lie to you and my patient husband has grown tired of this charade, therefore, when no one else is around us, we all may speak English. However, when we are with the rest of our family, I will continue to appear to only understand Spanish. Understood? I'm sure you have questions and I'll do my best to answer them. I only request that you safeguard my secret until I decide otherwise."

"How long?" I asked. It was the first question that popped into my mind. "How long have you known English?"

"Since before you were born," she replied; her sly grin sent a chill down my spine. "And I kept my knowledge of English a very deep secret until I met Estefania. After you went away on your mission, I knew she needed a trustworthy ally in this crazy family of ours, especially when I saw the way your father was behaving."

"Dios!" I wondered about the numerous conversations my grandmother must have overheard throughout the years, especially the ones between my siblings and me. And then I thought about seeing her in the hallway outside of my father's office after the terrible arguments between my father, Alex, Mateo, and me when I changed my Will. The implications of this revelation were frightening as I realized my grandmother was better at espionage than many of the spies I had encountered during my military career.

Abuela Rosa nodded slowly and said, "Indeed." Now I wondered if she could read my mind, too.

"Why?" I asked.

She shrugged and admitted, "Because I wanted to – no, I _needed_ to. After Celia and Alejandro were born, and your parents decided to raise them and any other children they had to be bilingual, I knew I had to learn English, too. I did not want to be stuck in the ways of the Old Country. Unfortunately, your grandfather disagreed and told me I'd never be able to learn another language. Silly old fool! I knew he only wanted to keep me ignorant and dependent upon him. Neither he nor Ricardo ever figured out that I could understand what they were saying when they tried to keep things hidden from me."

I shook my head, trying to fathom the extent of her clever deception. "Oh, Abuela Rosa, you are a sneaky one," I chided.

"I know I am," she admitted. "Now, there are probably only a few moments before the Maid of Honor arrives to help Estefania with her dress, so we'll have to be quick. Do you swear never to reveal my secret to the rest of the family?"

I nodded. "Yes, Abuela, I swear it. Your secret is safe with me."

"And me!" Stephanie chimed in enthusiastically.

We both hugged my grandmother and she winked at us as she slipped out of the room. Stephanie hurriedly spritzed some of her cologne on her neck and wrists and then into the air of the room for good measure. I just shook my head and gathered her into my arms.

"I can't believe you've been in league with my sneaky grandmother all this time," I said before I kissed her lips.

Stephanie's bright eyes searched my face. "Are you angry?"

"Not really," I said after a moment. "I just never expected such a thing. Of course, I knew _something_ was going on between the two of you, but I dismissed my suspicions, because you and I had agreed to always tell each other the truth."

"I've never _not_ told you the truth, Carlos," she said. "You just never asked if I knew whether or not your grandmother could speak English."

I shook my head. "Babe."

At least Stephanie had the decency to look remorseful as she continued to defend her actions, "I'm sorry, but it wasn't my secret to tell. When Rosa explained her situation to me, I completely understood. I think we're all – you, me, Rosa – kindred spirits that way. I mean, we know what it's like to not have members of our own families believe in us. And I actually think it's really cool how she's pulled the wool over your eyes for so long." Her impish grin drew my lips to her again.

I only ended the kiss when there was a loud knock on the door.

"Stephanie? Carlos?" Tina's voice sounded through the door loud and clear. "Are you in there?"

Then we heard Santos' even louder voice. "Hell, yeah, they're in there! C'mon you two; we've got to get this show on the road! Superman's father is bitching and moaning about the food being ready and the guests being hungry and he's right. I'm fucking starving out here and you guys are just, well,_ fucking_."

Stephanie's lovely face turned beet red and I fought hard not to laugh. Instead, I opened the door to let Tina and Santos inside. Santos merely raised one of his eyebrows and smirked at me. He knew better than to say another word. Tina rushed over to Stephanie, turned her around and began working on fastening the train of the wedding gown to the buttons that would raise the hem of the dress above the floor. I finished putting on the final touches of my tuxedo, including the formal bowtie and the boutonniere. Then the four of us left the room and made our way to the front of the restaurant to join the receiving line. It was time for the reception to begin.

_Frank's POV_

_Thank you, God! My Stephanie's finally married to Carlos Mañoso! She looks so happy! And Valerie's finally dating a nice man, a decent man. I really like Alberto Guarino and he's good with my granddaughters, too. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll finally end up with two sons-in-law that are worth a damn. These men are so much better than the jerks my girls married first, only because their mother said they should do so and we all foolishly listened to her. I just wish Ellen would be happy for our girls. We're all adults now. At least she should try to be civil toward them and respect their choices. Oh, well, we shall see._

These were the thoughts drifting through my mind as I walked around groups of wedding guests to find my assigned table. While Stephanie and her new husband, her Matron and Maid of Honor and his two Best Men formed the receiving line and greeted all their guests, I had wandered around, talking to various friends and family members. Unfortunately, I got trapped into a long conversation with one of my least favorite cousins, Vincent Plum. Stephanie had invited most of our family members only out of politeness, thinking that the majority of them wouldn't want to get up so early on a Saturday morning and travel up to Newark for this wedding, and she was mostly right.

My cousin Vinnie was a major-league sleazeball, though, who never passed up the opportunity for a free meal. He ran his own bail bonds company in Trenton and he was barely more legitimate than the majority of his clients. He was several years younger than me and I could hardly stand him, but he was family so I _had_ to talk to him. Lucky me.

Vinnie was going on and on about a criminal who had recently been recaptured after he'd skipped bail, "So I says to this guy, 'You gotta put your money where your mouth is, asshole,' and he proceeded to bend over and show me his a-"

"Pardon me, Vinnie," I interrupted his crude story. I just couldn't stand it anymore. "I gotta go talk to Ellen for a minute." Imagine that! I actually used Ellen as an excuse to get away from Vinnie.

Vinnie merely shrugged and headed back to the table filled with delicious appetizers. I think he already had eaten four platefuls of meat pies, fried potato balls and little ham sandwiches. I just hoped Carlos' father had plenty of food to put out, because the Plum family definitely could eat.

"Hey, Ellen," I called out to my soon-to-be-ex-wife. "May I have a word with you?"

She scowled at me and said, "Make it quick. I'm waiting for JJ to show up."

I stopped in my tracks. "Joe Juniak? I didn't see his name on the guest list."

"He's coming as _my_ guest, Frank," she replied, sounding annoyed at me.

"Does Stephanie know you planned to bring Juniak?" I asked warily, certain I already knew the answer to that question.

"I might have forgotten to mention it to her," Ellen sniffed. "Honestly, Frank, you didn't think I'd want to sit with _you_ or dance with you at this _wedding_, did you? We're practically divorced." She said 'wedding' as though it was an ugly word.

Grinding my teeth together in frustration, I also bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying something I might later regret. I didn't want to cause a nasty scene, especially in front of Stephanie's new in-laws. No way was I going to embarrass my daughter like that. Instead, I firmly held on to Ellen's elbow and guided her through a gaggle of guests and out of the restaurant.

As soon as we were standing in the parking lot, Ellen wrenched away from me and hissed, "What is your problem, Frank?"

"We need to lay down some ground rules here," I growled back at her. "This is Stephanie's special day and although I already warned you about misbehavin' at the church ceremony, I'm warnin' you again. Don't you _dare_ do something or say anything to cause grief for Stephanie and Carlos at this reception. Do you understand me?"

Ellen lifted her chin and glared at me. "I understand that _you're_ not in charge of me anymore. I can do-"

She abruptly cut off her sentence and then her face brightened as she waved at someone behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see my 'replacement' walking toward us. Joe Juniak grasped both of Ellen's hands in his and they just gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment. Despite everything that had happened, it was difficult for me to be angry at the man because he was genuinely a nice guy – and a great cop. Too bad he couldn't see how crazy Ellen had become. Thankfully, he didn't extend his hand to me. Instead, he respectfully inclined his head to me and greeted me by name.

"Congratulations, Frank," he said. "I'm sorry I missed the wedding, but I'm sure your daughter was a beautiful bride. I bet Stephanie looks just like her mother did when she was that age."

"Hmph! When her mother was the same age, she'd already given birth to our two girls," I grumbled. "But yeah, you're right; Ellen was beautiful at that age, too," I added grudgingly. There was no need for me to be rude to Juniak. My issues with Ellen weren't _his_ fault.

"Are you finished with your work for the day?" Ellen jumped in, changing the subject.

A shadow crossed over Juniak's face and he shook his head sorrowfully. "I only came by to let you know in person that I can't stay for the reception. I'm real sorry to stand you up like this, Ellen, because it looks like it's going to be a great party, but this new case is a rough one. One of my former men was murdered this morning. I just informed his family. It's a real tragedy."

"Oh, my God! How awful for you!" Ellen exclaimed and gently laid her hand on his forearm.

"I really wish I could stay here with you, Ellen," Juniak genuinely looked sad. "But I'm on my way to the City to talk to the police commissioner there because the alleged killer is one of _his_ men. It turns out the shooter belongs to the NYPD and he was supposedly working on an undercover sting operation. We've got him locked up down in Trenton, but he lawyered-up real quick and isn't talking to anyone."

"That sounds complicated," I said.

"You have no idea," Juniak replied. Then he glanced around the parking lot, saw that we were alone and said, "You know the Morelli family, right? Oh yeah, of course you do. Well, it's one of their boys, Joseph. He used to work for me. Now he's dead."

All of the color drained from Ellen's face and she whispered, "_What_ … what happened?"

Juniak shook his head and said, "Long story short, he was in bed with the wrong woman at the wrong time and he got shot. The funny thing is, Morelli shouldn't have even been back in this part of the country. Several months ago, he asked for a transfer out to Montana and he's been out there ever since. I'd heard he was adjusting to his new assignment pretty well, but I guess not."

"Oh, my God. Poor Angela!" Ellen said as she slumped against a car.

"Yeah. It was … pretty rough this morning." Juniak sounded very sad as he continued, "Angela kept screaming 'Why? Why?' until her mother-in-law, Old Bella, gave her some sort of sedative tea. All I could tell her was that it seems her son came back into town to see his old girlfriend, Terry Gilman – you know, Vito Grizolli's goddaughter – and her current boyfriend, or at least the undercover cop who was posing as her current boyfriend, caught them in bed together. It looks like the man went crazy and shot Morelli three times: once in the forehead, once in the heart, and once in the … ah, private parts. Like I said, it's a tragedy and it's turning into a big mess, too. That's why I'm going to the City now to try to get some answers."

I stared at my shoes and sighed. Even though I couldn't stand the Morelli boy, especially after the despicable way he had treated both of my daughters, I felt sorry for his poor mother and grandmother. Angela Morelli had had more than her fair share of grief in this life. Of course, Bella was a crazy old hag, but no one deserved to have to bury a child or grandchild. I didn't even want to imagine the pain that family was going through right now.

Juniak thrust his fingers through his thick mane of salt-and-pepper hair and said, "Listen, the Grizolli family has been under surveillance for years and everyone in Trenton knows the Gilman girl has been her uncle's 'bagman' forever. I don't know why our friends across the river decided to try to catch her in the act, but I guess those guys had studied Gilman and knew that she favored a certain type of man for her romantic encounters, because this other cop even looks somewhat like Morelli. Still, the NYPD should have cleared it with _me_ first. Now everything's all gone to crap and most of the leads we had on Grizolli have run to ground. Years of work are down the drain."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "You and your men have done a good job of cleanin' up our area of Trenton."

"Thanks," he said. "The mob has mostly moved on to greener pastures these days. I just wish I knew why Morelli was in the area in the first place. When I called out to Montana to inform his current boss of his death, the sheriff wasn't even aware that Morelli had left the state. Helluva day. Damn, I'd better get going. See you later, Ellen." Then he quickly kissed Ellen on her cheek and walked toward his car.

After Juniak drove away, we returned to the restaurant. I glanced at Ellen and said, "I'll bet Juniak didn't even know he wasn't invited to today's events."

Ellen refused to look at me. Instead, she wove through groups of guests to get to her assigned table. She would be sitting with Edna and Valerie and their dates, as well as some other friends from Trenton. Thankfully, Stephanie had placed me at a table with some of Carlos' family members. She'd told me she hoped I would take the opportunity to get to know some of her in-laws a bit better during the festive occasion.

"For God's sake, Ellen," I ground out between my clenched teeth as soon as I caught up with her. "The man has no idea that he wouldn't have been welcome here, does he?"

"He _would_ have been welcome – as _my_ guest," she insisted and she gracefully sat in the chair in front of her place card. "Look at this place; there's more than enough room for everyone. Anyway, it's obvious that half of the people Stephanie invited from our families didn't even come." She glanced around with a look of disdain in her once-beautiful eyes and she didn't seem to notice or appreciate the elegant blue and white décor of the table settings.

"That's beside the point – and you know it," I spat out in a harsh tone of voice. "I can't believe you'd do something like this." I was still trying to keep my voice low so that no one would notice we were arguing.

Ellen shook her head in shocked disbelief. "I can't believe Joseph Morelli is … _dead_. I just don't understand. Why would he have gone to see that horrible Grizolli girl when he was supposed to come _here_ to the chapel to save Stephanie from making the biggest mistake of her life?"

My blood ran cold. "What did you just say?" I asked carefully.

A single tear rolled down Ellen's face and she said, "I _told_ him it was his last chance. If he wanted to be with Stephanie, he would have to come to the chapel and oppose the union when the priest asked the congregation for any objections. I couldn't do it for him, of course; not after the way you threatened me. Joseph was supposed to be there, but he never showed up. And now he'll _never_ show up." Two more tears rolled down her face and I wondered if she was crying because the Morelli boy was dead or if she was crying because he hadn't made it to the church to ruin our daughter's wedding.

"From what Juniak just told us, that boy was probably already dead this morning," I said. And then the full impact of Ellen's latest scheme slammed into my conscience and I softly exclaimed, "Oh, my God, Ellen! What have you done?"

She glared up at me and said, "What do you mean by that? I haven't done anything wrong. If anything, Stephanie's the one who chose to marry the wrong man. I was just trying to help her come to her senses. If Joseph Morelli had driven directly to the chapel, instead of stopping off to see some floozy, he would have been able to stop the wedding and Stephanie would have had another chance to marry a nice young man from the 'Burg and settle down where she belongs."

I was about to blast Ellen for her continued stupidity, but at that moment, Valerie and Alberto arrived at the table. From the way my older daughter's jaw was hanging open, it was obvious she had heard the tail end of what Ellen had just said.

"Mother!" Valerie exclaimed. "_Please_ tell me you didn't just say what you just said."

"What?" Ellen sounded surprised.

"Ugh! About Joseph Morelli. That man is a boil on the butt of humanity!" Valerie cried. "After the way he treated both Stephanie _and_ me, I still can't believe you'd want her to have anything to do with him!"

Ellen made the Sign of the Cross and scolded, "Valerie! You shouldn't speak ill of the dead!"

Now all the color drained from Val's face. "What? Omigod! Is Joseph Morelli … _dead_?" She whispered the word 'dead' as she slumped into her assigned seat at the table.

"Who's dead?" Edna inquired as she and Wilbur walked up behind me. "Is it somebody we know?"

Ellen's voice broke when she replied, "It's Joseph Morelli. Poor, poor Joseph." And she swiped away a few more tears.

I shook my head in disgust and before things could get out of hand, I quickly explained the situation, "We just talked to Joe Juniak. He informed us of Joseph Morelli's untimely demise. Apparently, Ellen here invited the Morelli boy to come back from Montana and interrupt Stephanie's big day, but he made a detour to an old girlfriend's house instead, where a jealous boyfriend allegedly shot him to death. That's the story – in a nutshell."

"Oh, I need more details than that," Edna protested before asking in rapid succession, "Does Angela Morelli know yet? How many times was Joseph shot? Do you know whether they'll be able to have an open casket when they have the funeral?"

"Mother! Give it a rest!" Ellen exclaimed. "How can you ask such questions at a time like this? The news is bad enough without you having to dig for all the details."

"What?" Edna sounded surprised.

"Stop it! All of you!" I growled. I'd had enough of this. Now some of the other guests had begun to take notice of our unhappy little group. "Listen, the details are pretty gruesome, so we're _not_ gonna discuss them any further at this time." I looked pointedly at Edna and for once she had the good sense to leave it alone and not press for more details. Then I glared at the woman I used to love with all my heart and said, "Ellen, if you can't pull yourself together, I suggest you make your excuses and leave now, before the party really gets under way. This is Stephanie's special day and _no_ _one's_ gonna ruin it for her with this sordid news."

Ellen stood up and faced me. "Are you … are you throwing me out, Frank?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and considered the bitter look on her face before I replied, "If that's how you want to look at it, Ellen, then yeah, I guess I _am_ throwing you out. I _warned_ you not to try to mess up Stephanie's wedding or her reception, but you seem determined to do so. I can't – I _won't_ – allow it. You'll have to leave."

"Well, we'll just see about that!" Then she pushed past me and stormed toward Stephanie, who was following Carlos to their place at the head table.

"Ellen, don't!" I ordered to no avail and hurried to catch up to her. I could feel the others following close behind me.

Ellen called out to Stephanie, who turned around to face her. At first she was smiling, but when she saw the expression on her mother's face, she began to frown. Then Carlos turned around and noticed the two women staring at each other. He instinctively wrapped his arm around Stephanie's shoulder to protect her from her mother.

"Joseph Morelli is dead!" Ellen blurted out just as I reached for her arm to pull her away. She angrily shook off my grip and continued, sounding like a madwoman, "It's _your_ fault for getting married so soon to this man we hardly know. If only you had waited, _like I asked you to do_, Joseph would have had another chance with you and he'd still be alive!"

"Morelli's dead?" Stephanie gasped.

I noticed Carlos exchange a curious look with some of his Army buddies before he said in a low voice, "Mrs. Plum, please calm down. You're making a spectacle of yourself."

I'm not exactly sure what caused it – maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was just her usual idiocy – but Ellen lost whatever final shred of sanity she'd possessed. Her voice was shrill when she said, "How dare you speak to me like that? I'm _not_ making a spectacle of myself; I'm … I'm _grieving_! You don't understand – you _can't_ understand. A good man is dead and you're having a party! It's not right, I tell you. It's not _right_!"

I sighed heavily and did what I promised I'd do. I made eye contact with Carlos and tilted my head toward the front of the restaurant, and he nodded once. Without another word, I walked up behind Ellen, wrapped my arms around her body, lifted her up and carried her out of the restaurant. She struggled against me the entire time until I set her down next to her car, which was, mercifully, parked very close to _Rosa's_ entrance.

"Go home, Ellen," I ordered. "If all you're gonna do is grieve over the loss of Joseph Morelli, then go do it on your own time. I warned you before and now you'll just have to deal with the consequences. May God have mercy on your soul for the part you've played in today's tragedy. I seriously doubt Angela Morelli ever will. And you'll be _very_ lucky if Joe Juniak forgives you once he finds out what you did."

My soon-to-be-ex-wife glared at me and snarled, "You'd better not tell them or else I'll-"

"Or else you'll what?" I scoffed. "Don't worry, Ellen. I'm sure I won't hafta say a word. The truth always comes out sooner or later on its own. Now, I don't wanna miss anymore of the reception, so _please_ … just go home. I'm not gonna ask you nicely anymore."

For a moment, it looked like Ellen would continue arguing with me. Instead, she angrily opened her car door, sat down and pulled her long dress inside of the car. She gave me one more glaring look, slammed the door and drove away. After a few moments I heaved a sigh of relief and walked back inside the beautifully decorated restaurant. Now that Ellen was gone, I truly intended to enjoy myself at the reception. Let the party begin!

**TBC**


	56. Chapter 56 Chapter 140

**CHAPTER 140**

_Carlos' POV_

It was a miracle that most of our wedding guests weren't really paying much attention to the drama between the Plums as it unfolded. When Stephanie and I and the rest of our wedding party began to assemble in the hallway closest to the bandstand to await our introductions, we inadvertently provided a much-needed diversion for Frank to remove Ellen from the premises. Also, the atmosphere in the restaurant had become slightly more chaotic because the bandleader had just asked everyone to go to their assigned tables in preparation for the official start of the wedding reception. Alex gave the signal for the band to play a little louder while everyone was milling around and trying to find their seats. Thankfully, only those who were standing close to us heard what Stephanie's mother said and most of them were members of our wedding party anyway.

"What happened? Did anyone we know have anything to do with the cop's death?" I quietly growled at Tank, who shook his head and pointed at Javier. I asked Javier the same questions after he jogged over to us.

"I _tried_ to tell you earlier, Superman, but you and Wonder Woman threw me out of the dressing room." Javier waggled his eyebrows at me, but I only glared in return. He sighed and continued, "I swear; we didn't have anything to do with Morelli's death. We don't even know the shooter. Our contact in the Trenton police department told us the case is being looked at as a 'domestic dispute' so far."

"Did we know Morelli was back in town?" I asked. I was working hard to not be upset with this unexpected turn of events.

Javier nodded. "We knew the guy had left Montana, so we were keeping our eyes open for him to show up here. But we relaxed a little when we found out he stopped off at an old girlfriend's house. Obviously, _this_ event wasn't his first priority. We were ready to stop him if he showed up at your townhouse or the church this morning, but he never made it."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I glanced between Javier and Tank.

"Damn, man, stop trippin'. It's your _wedding_ _day_," Tank growled. "No one wanted to ruin the mood. And you know Morelli wasn't gonna get anywhere close to Stephanie or the ceremony. We had it covered. Now chill! Go comfort your bride before the emcee starts introducing us."

I took a few deep breaths and then I was able to relax. Tank was right. Today was a very special day for Stephanie and me and _nothing_ should be allowed to ruin it. Not Stephanie's mother's antics and certainly not Morelli's undignified death. My Army buddies had been ready for the cop to show up, so there was no real reason for me to be upset with them for not informing me of the situation earlier. Their actions had allowed me to enjoy my wedding and all the festivities so far. Now, I just had to help my Babe calm down so that we both could enjoy the rest of our day.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on here or what?" Stephanie whispered in my ear after her father physically removed her mother from the premises. Her voice had a sharp tone, but it was a bit shaky, too. My Babe was definitely on edge.

I sighed and whispered my reply. "Morelli is dead, but none of our friends were involved. That's all I'm gonna say for now, because it really has nothing to do with you and me. As for your parents, Frank is keeping a promise. He warned Ellen not to try to spoil our day by bringing up any unpleasantness. Honestly, I'm surprised she lasted this long, but he'll be right back. Trust me, Babe, everything's under control."

"But Carlos, what about-" Stephanie began. Fortunately, the bandleader chose that precise moment to start introducing the wedding party and everyone turned to look at us. I knew Stephanie wanted more answers, but she'd just have to wait. In quick succession, Mateo with Keira Sanderson, Bobby with Amanda McCord, and Lester with Melinda Walker made their entrances and were standing in front of the bandstand.

"…and now let's put our hands together for the Maid of Honor, Tina Minardo and Best Man, Pierre 'Tank' James."

The band continued to play the jazzy riffs from Tito Puente's classic tune, "_Oye Como Va_," in the background as the pair walked in front of the stage and took a bow. Santos let loose a loud "wolf whistle" and yelled "You go, Tina! That's _my_ Baby Girl, uh-huh!" This got a big laugh from the crowd.

"Well, well, well! Ladies and gentlemen, I've just been informed that the lovely Miss Minardo is engaged to Mr. Santos and they'll be getting married next month!" The bandleader gushed happily. Then he joked, "So sorry, guys; that's another one off the market already." He waited until the laughter died down before he continued, "Last, but certainly not least, let's give a big welcome to the Matron of Honor, Mary Lou Stankovic, and Best Man, Alex Mañoso!"

The music steadily became more and more quiet and then the bandleader said, "Drum roll, please." After a dramatic pause, he said, "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, let's give it up for the bride and groom, Stephanie and Carlos Mañoso!

The applause was almost deafening. I tightened my grip around Stephanie's hand and led her out onto the dance floor in front of the bandstand. My Babe's smile was radiant as she gazed around at all our family and friends. Even though my inner military self was repulsed by the overt display of emotion, I knew I was grinning like a fool, too.

"And, for their first time as husband and wife," the bandleader continued, "Carlos and Stephanie will dance to the wonderful song by Whitney Houston and Enrique Iglesias, '_Can I Have This Kiss Forever?_' _Ah_, don't they look fabulous together?"

I twirled Stephanie into my embrace and kissed her gently before we began to sway to the rhythm of _Our Song_. This was the very same dance floor where we'd first danced together to this music. The male and female lead singers sounded just as good as they had the previous time and we allowed the smooth sounds of the band to carry us away.

_Over and over I look in your eyes  
>You are all I desire<br>You have captured me  
>I want to hold you I want to be close to you<br>I never want to let go  
>I wish that this night would never end<br>I need to know_

_Could I hold you for a lifetime_  
><em>Could I look into your eyes<em>  
><em>Could I have this night to share this night together<em>  
><em>Could I hold you close beside me<em>  
><em>Could I hold you for all time<em>  
><em>Could I could I have this kiss forever<em>  
><em>Could I could I have this kiss forever, forever<em>

_Over and over I've dreamed of this night_  
><em>Now you're here by my side<em>  
><em>You are next to me<em>  
><em>I want to hold you and touch you and taste you<em>  
><em>And make you want no one but me<em>  
><em>I wish that this kiss could never end<em>  
><em>Oh baby please<em>

_Could I hold you for a lifetime_  
><em>Could I look into your eyes<em>  
><em>Could I have this night to share this night together<em>  
><em>Could I hold you close beside me<em>  
><em>Could I hold you for all time<em>  
><em>Could I could I have this kiss forever<em>  
><em>Could I could I have this kiss forever, forever<em>

_I don't want any night to go by_  
><em>Without you by my side<em>  
><em>I just want all my days<em>  
><em>Spent being next to you<em>  
><em>Lived for just loving you<em>  
><em>And baby, oh by the way<em>

_Could I hold you for a lifetime_  
><em>Could I look into your eyes<em>  
><em>Could I have this night to share this night together<em>  
><em>Could I hold you close beside me<em>  
><em>Could I hold you for all time<em>  
><em>Could I could I have this kiss forever<em>  
><em>Could I could I have this kiss forever, forever<em>

Everyone and everything melted away. Other than the band, it felt like Stephanie and I were the only two people in the place. There was no one else for me in the room. When the song ended, I realized I'd been kissing my Babe the entire time we danced. Honestly, I could have stayed wrapped in her arms until it was time to depart for the cruise ship, but I knew we had a program to follow here and a schedule to keep. Reluctantly, I ended both the kisses and the dance and while everyone was still applauding and whistling, I led Stephanie to our places at the head table.

_Tink! Tink! Tink! Tink! Tink!_ As soon as we sat down, the sound of silver spoons clinking against the water glasses filled the air. I raised an eyebrow at Stephanie and she gave me a saucy smile in return, so I kissed her hard and deep this time. There was a lot of hooting and whistling and I continued to duel her tongue with my own until I heard someone close by clear his throat loudly.

"Ahem!" said Alex, a knowing smirk twitched at the corners of his lips. He raised his full champagne glass, as well as his voice, and said, "May I have everyone's attention? My name is Alex Mañoso and, as most of you already know, I am Carlos' brother as well as his Best Man. Actually, Carlos is the best man here today and Stephanie is one of the most beautiful brides I've ever seen." He waited as people applauded in agreement.

"My lovely wife, Carolina, told me to keep this short, and so I will try my best to do so." Alex turned slightly more toward my Babe and continued, "Stephanie, as you well know, you have married into a large _família_, and we're full of all kinds of issues, so I'll start you off with an old Spanish proverb: El amor todo lo iguala. Basically, it means 'Love smooths life out.' I don't think you'll have any problems remembering that, because the love I've seen between you and Carlos is real and it's beautiful and I believe you two lovebirds will have smooth sailing for your honeymoon, as well as for the rest of your lives."

Then he turned toward me and said, "Carlos, you lucky dog! I'm going to remind you of a saying we used to hear all the time when we were little: No cantan dos gallos en un gallinero. As you know, this literally means: Two roosters do not crow in a henhouse. Now that you've joined the brotherhood of married men, I'm here to inform you, even though you've always thought of yourself as the rooster-in-charge, you're not really in charge of the henhouse anymore. Am I right, ladies?" This got quite the chuckle out of all the women.

"Anyway," Alex said after the laughter died down again, "I'm proud to be your brother and-" he had to pause to compose himself. "On behalf of our entire family, I wish you both all the best and a lifetime of joy. Felicitaciones! Les deseamos a ambos toda la felicidad del mundo. A Stephanie y Carlos, salud!" [_Congratulations! We wish the both of you all the happiness in the world. To Stephanie and Carlos, cheers!_]

A chorus of "¡Salud!" and "Cheers!" and "Here! Here!" went up throughout the room.

Next, I watched Tank rise to his full height. When Alex tried to give him the microphone, Tank waved it away. Alex looked surprised, but I knew there was no need for it. The clinking of the glasses began again. Stephanie giggled and I kissed her sweetly this time. I could hear several people saying "_Awww_!" until we stopped kissing.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Tank's deep voice boomed out across the entire restaurant, startling more than a few people who weren't accustomed to the sound of a true military command voice. "My name is Tank and I'm the _other_ Best Man. Speaking on behalf of the rest of the groomsmen – Lester, Mateo, and Bobby – the ushers – Antonio, Diego, Javier, and Miguel – and our capable ring bearer, Ricky – we wish Stephanie and Carlos a very happy life together. We call them Superman and Wonder Woman, and together, they're the new 'Dynamic Duo'. I almost feel sorry for their future neighbors." This got more than a few chuckles from our guests.

Tank continued, "I've known Carlos for most of my military career and he's the best team commander I and many of the men here today have ever had the honor of serving with. In fact, most of us here today wouldn't even be alive if Carlos hadn't been our leader." He had to stop to clear his throat.

Tank looked directly into my eyes and continued, "I heard somewhere that serendipity is what they call it when a so-called 'fortunate accident' places you at the right place at the right time, so it must have been serendipity for all of us when Carlos and Stephanie bumped into each other. Fate took over from there, giving both of them reasons to live and live well. Even though there were a few intense moments along the way, Carlos and Stephanie are now husband and wife. So let's all drink a toast to the happy couple, to serendipity and to fate, to all of us being here at the right place, at the right time. Congratulations on your marriage and know that we're all here for you whenever and wherever you need us. Here's to your happiness!" He lifted his champagne glass to his lips to complete the toast before he sat down.

Next, Mary Lou stood up, took the microphone and began to speak, "Hello, everyone. I'm Mary Lou Stankovic and I've known Stephanie since we were in elementary school together. She's my best friend and, yeah, we've been through a lot together. On behalf of everyone from your old Burg neighborhood, I'd like to wish you and Carlos all the best."

She glanced around the room until she locked eyes with her husband, Lenny, who smiled his encouragement for her to go on. After taking a deep breath, Mary Lou said, "There's this quote from William Shakespeare, that Steph and I discovered way back when we had Mrs. Gelderman for tenth grade English: 'A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.' It's been, like, our theme ever since then. We really do understand each other and I predict we always will. In fact, I knew, from the very first time Stephanie told me about Carlos that he was 'The One' for her."

She took a moment to blot her tears with a tissue before continuing. "When Steph asked me to be her Matron of Honor, and for my daughter to be one of her flower girls, I literally jumped up and down on the bed with my little girl, Michelle – hi, Sweetie." And she waved at her daughter who was sitting on her husband's lap. Everyone chuckled and turned to stare at the now-shy girl.

"So anyway," Mary Lou continued again, "I was jumping for joy not just because I knew my best friend had terrific fashion sense, as evidenced by her booming business, and she'd pick out some amazing dresses for us to wear…not just because I knew I'd finally have a chance to get her back for all the gag gifts she gave me at my bridal shower so many moons ago…but because I'd have the honor and pleasure of standing up for her as she married the man of her dreams. Stephanie and Carlos, everyone can see you have a great love between you, so here's to the great life you're sure to share. Congratulations!"

Mary Lou lifted her glass and there was another round of cheers and more clinking glasses. This time, I nibbled on Stephanie's lower lip when I kissed her. I didn't have to tell her; she already knew her lipstick was long gone.

The last of our "official wedding toasts" came from Tina Minardo before the meal was served. She gave a quick wave of greeting, accepted the microphone from the bandleader and said, "Hi. I'm Tina Minardo – soon to be Santos – and I'm the Maid of Honor. I've been Stephanie's friend and workmate for a very long time and I'm grateful for her friendship. Stevie has always been there for me and helped me to do better and be better than I would have been by myself. I wouldn't have even met my fiancé if she hadn't met _her_ fiancé." Tina caught Steph's shining eyes and they smiled at each other.

Tina cleared her throat and continued, "Speaking of meetings, one of our all-time favorite movies is '_When Harry Met Sally_' and there's a quote from it that I think fits Stephanie's relationship with Carlos perfectly. It goes like this: 'When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want forever to start as soon as possible.' Boy, oh, boy, ain't that the truth?" Then she waggled her eyebrows at Santos who grinned back at her like the fool that he was.

Tina waited for people to stop laughing and then she said, "On behalf of all the bridesmaids – Melinda, Keira, and Amanda – as well as the flower girls – Michelle, Angie and Mary Alice – I'd like to say congratulations to the happy couple. Stevie, you've never looked more beautiful. And I am thrilled for you that you've made your dreams come true. You found your very own 'Prince Charming' and this truly is the beginning of your Happily Ever After. Live well, laugh often, love much. Cheers!"

Father Brady took charge of the microphone next and said a quick blessing over the food and then it was time to eat. Of course, my father had outdone himself and the meal was a huge hit with everyone. He basically served us the same menu from the sampler platter he had concocted for Stephanie on our first visit to _Rosa's._ One of the newer servers, a young man I didn't know, brought our plates of food to us.

"Señor y Señora Mañoso," the server spoke in Spanish as he placed the heaping plates in front of us. Then with heavily accented English, he said, "Congratulations! And please, enjoy your meal."

"Oh, that's so sweet," gushed Stephanie. "Did you hear that? He called me Señora Mañoso!"

Curious, I glanced over Stephanie to make eye contact with Alex, who understood my unspoken question.

"That's my sous chef's son, Mauricio," Alex whispered. "Teo used to be a cook for one of the cruise ships, but he's been with us for over a year now. His family, including his wife, Mauricio and another son, Julio, who we also hired, just joined him here from the Dominican Republic."

I nodded. It was good to know that Alex had a good heart toward people who were new arrivals to the States. There weren't a lot of job opportunities for such folks. When my business got off the ground, I too was determined to provide as many job opportunities as possible to people who wouldn't otherwise have much hope in this economy. Shaking my head to clear it of such thoughts, I looked down and noticed that Stephanie's plate was half-cleared already. Damn! My Babe can _eat_!

Although Papa instructed servers to take care of the head table, the buffet line for our guests was fully stocked with _Ropa Vieja_-shredded beef in a light tomato Cuban Creole sauce with onions and peppers; _Camarones al Ajillo_-shrimp sautéed in Cuban garlic sauce; _Lechon Asado_-traditional Cuban-style roasted pork with sweet plantains; _Croquetas de Jamon_-ham croquettes; _Chicharonnes de Pollo_-lightly floured and deep fried chicken bites marinated in Cuban mojo; and my personal favorite, _Paella Valenciana_-the traditional dish of saffron rice garnished with shrimp, mussels, scallops, Chorizo sausage and chicken, with sweet peas and roasted peppers.

There were two dessert tables to accommodate all of Stephanie's favorites, as well. Some of the pastries and baked items, such as pineapple upside down cake and chocolate layer cake, were from the DiPaolo Brothers Bakery. Other sweets were from _Rosa's_ kitchen: a variety of fruit-filled empanadas; _Tres Leches_, or Three Milk Cake, which is an incredibly rich mixture of sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk and heavy cream, poured over white cake and topped with meringue frosting and a cherry; and several types of flan, including _Flan de Leche_, the traditional Cuban style custard topped with caramel; _Flan de Queso_, made with smooth cream cheese and topped with caramel; _Flan de Coco_, made with coconut milk and topped with grated coconut and caramel; and _Flan de Guayaba y Queso_, custard with guava and cheese.

Our cakes were on display next to the dessert tables. My Groom's cake was a chocolate sheet cake with raspberry filling and white buttercream frosting. A stunningly sensuous graphic of Superman and Wonder Woman entangled in an embrace was painted on the cake's surface. It was a fabulous work of art, but I figured my men would harass me about this cake for at least the next ten years.

Our official wedding cake was a multi-tiered, multi-flavored creation from the bridal collection of the DiPaolo Bros. When Stephanie first described the cake to me, I thought she'd gone a bit haywire. The bottom layer was chocolate cake and the next layer was spice cake, followed by yellow cake, then lemon, German chocolate, strawberry, coconut and finally, the top layer was white cake. Supposedly, someone would save the top layer for us in a freezer and then, on our first anniversary, we'd thaw it out and eat it. Fat chance! If my Babe wanted to chow down on year-old cake, I'd let her have her way, but there's no way I'd put something like that in my mouth.

On another table, bundles of red licorice whips were waiting under a white table cloth. They were tied with red, white and blue ribbons and each guest would be able to take a bundle at the end of the reception as an edible memento. My mother wasn't too keen on the idea at first, but I thought it definitely beat the little trinkets many of our friends and relatives had handed out at their weddings. Most of those things just ended up in the trash anyway. I preferred our festive give-aways.

_Tink! Tink! Tink! Tink! Tink!_ Every time Steph or I put down our fork, another round of clinking would start up. It was beginning to annoy me. Oh, I had no problem kissing Stephanie – my wife – whenever the clinking sound wafted across the room. In fact, I enjoyed kissing my bride quite often, but I saw the mischievous glances passing back and forth among both my nieces and Stephanie's nieces. Those little girls were abusing the tradition and none of their parents were doing anything about it. I made a mental note to exact my revenge upon all of them via tickle fights in the very near future.

As soon as Stephanie seemed to be finished with her last bit of _Flan de Coco_, I made eye contact with the bandleader and nodded. He made an announcement, requesting everyone to return to their seats. I supported Stephanie as she rose from her seat and I smoothed the back of her dress, allowing my hand to linger on her ass for a tiny fraction longer than truly necessary. She gave me a playful shove just as the bandleader gave me the microphone and a loud squeal of electronic feedback pierced the air. That definitely got everyone's attention. My Babe winced, turned red, and gave a little finger wave as she mouthed, "Sorry!"

Now that I had all of our guests' undivided attention, I cleared my throat and said, "Before the dancing and the cake cutting and all the other activities begin, Stephanie and I wish to thank each and every one of you for coming out to our wedding today and joining us for this wonderful celebration. We could not have pulled this off without the wonderful support and assistance from our families. We love you all. Again, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts."

Then I repeated my short speech in Spanish for some of my relatives. I often made eye contact with Abuela Rosa so the others would think I was doing this specifically for her benefit. The bandleader took his cue from me and from that moment on, he made his announcements in both English and Spanish. I'm sure my sneaky grandmother appreciated the gesture, even though I now knew it was completely unnecessary.

"Now the happy couple will cut the wedding cake," the bandleader said as I guided Stephanie over to the cake table. The band segued into another round of "_Oye Como Va_" as background music.

We cut into the huge wedding cake with one of the sabers. Of course, my father made sure it was squeaky clean before it ever touched the cake. Antonio was waiting discreetly behind the photographers to take charge of the saber after we cut the ceremonial pieces. I enjoyed wrapping my arms around Stephanie as though I was a golf pro and guiding her hands around the saber to hold it steady enough to make the first slice. Before we could feed each other the tiny slices of cake we had agreed upon, the clinking of glasses began again.

Stephanie leaned in to kiss me and she whispered, "That was a very nice thing you did for Rosa; helping her keep up appearances like that."

I merely smirked and dabbed a tiny blob of frosting on the tip of my Babe's nose. We fed each other the cake, which was actually pretty good. If any of our guests were waiting for us to smash cake into each other's faces, they would just have to be disappointed. Instead, I made a show of licking the frosting off of Stephanie's thumb, nose and lips. After we allowed the photographers to take a few more pictures of us, the wait staff rolled the cake into the kitchen, where it would be sliced and plated and then brought back out for all the guests.

Soon, the bandleader announced the Father/Daughter Dance. Frank escorted a radiant Stephanie onto the dance floor and it was magical to watch them dance together. The Motown sound was a bit different for the Latin band, but they pulled off the Temptations' "_My Girl_" without a single glitch.

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day  
>When it's cold outside<br>I've got the month of May  
><em>

_I guess you'd say  
>What can make me feel this way<em>

_My girl (my girl, my girl ooh)_  
><em>Talkin' 'bout my girl<em>  
><em>(My girl)<em>

_I've got so much honey_  
><em>The bees envy me<em>  
><em>I've got a sweeter song<em>  
><em>Than the birds in the trees<em>

_Well, I guess you say  
>What can make me feel this way<em>

_My girl (my girl, my girl ooh)_  
><em>Talkin' 'bout my girl<em>  
><em>My girl<em>

_Ooh_  
><em>Hey hey hey<em>  
><em>Hey hey hey<em>  
><em>Ooh yeah<em>

_I don't need no money_  
><em>Fortune or fame<em>  
><em>I've got all the riches, baby<em>  
><em>One man can claim<em>

_Well, I guess you say  
>What can make me feel this way<em>

_My girl (my girl, my girl, ooh)_  
><em>Talkin' 'bout my girl<em>  
><em>My Girl<em>  
><em>Talkin' 'bout my girl<em>

_I've got sunshine on a cloudy day_  
><em>With my girl,<em>  
><em>I even got the month of May<em>  
><em>My girl<em>  
><em>Talkin' 'bout<em>  
><em>Talkin' 'bout<em>  
><em>My girl<em>  
><em>Talkin' 'bout my girl<em>

My Babe and her dad looked so happy out on the dance floor. It was good to see them smiling together and sharing little private jokes and comments with each other. After everything his wife had put him through this morning, it warmed my heart to see Frank Plum enjoying himself at the reception. I had seen him chatting with my Tía Carmen all during the luncheon hour at the table where they were seated near each other. They really seemed to hit it off nicely and I'm sure my mother and sisters noticed them, too. I made a mental note to check with Mateo later and see what he thought about this possible new development.

Then it was my turn. I had chosen a song that was special to both of my parents for the Mother/Son Dance. I remembered watching them dance to the song when I was very little. It, too, was a "golden oldie" and I had requested a rendition that had both English and Spanish in it. The band had no difficulty playing the Tony Bennett/Juanes duet version of "_The Shadow of Your Smile_" and the smooth jazz transitions made it easy for me to dance a slow rumba with my mother. We had a lot of fun with it.

_The shadow of your smile  
>When you are gone<br>Will color all my dreams  
>And light the dawn<br>Look into my eyes  
>My love and see<br>All the lovely things  
>You are to me<em>

_Our wistful little star_  
><em>Was far too high<em>  
><em>A teardrop kissed your lips<em>  
><em>And so did I<em>  
><em>Now when I remember spring<em>  
><em>All the joy that love can bring<em>  
><em>I will be remembering<em>  
><em>The shadow of your smile<em>

_la sombra de tu amor_  
><em>en mi sonar<em>  
><em>parece desperta sola anciedad<em>  
><em>siento que al partir te vas de mi<em>  
><em>no podre olvidar, ni ser feliz<em>

_la estrella que nos vio_  
><em>ya se apago<em>  
><em>talvez porque tu adios<em>  
><em>me hara sentir<em>  
><em>que te hice dano amor<em>  
><em>no te supe comprender<em>  
><em>solo guardare de ti<em>  
><em>la sombra de tu amor<em>

"Carlos, I love this song," my mother said to me when I pulled her in close for a few bars of the music. "How did you find this version? It's so lovely."

I grinned and told her that my father had already asked the band to add it into its repertoire. "He must be planning to make good use of it in the future," I joked and then winked at her. It was kind of nice to see my mother blushing with girlish embarrassment. Weird, but nice.

When the music faded, and I returned my mother to her seat, my father was standing there with tears in his eyes. First he hugged her and gave her a sweet little peck on her cheek. Then he pulled me into a strong, back-slapping, genuine embrace. I didn't resist. He was too choked up to say anything more than "Beautiful, that was so very beautiful."

Suddenly, I became all choked up, too, and all I could say was, "Thank you, Papa, for everything."

There's one Cuban wedding tradition I wasn't wild about, but I knew my relatives and hometown friends wouldn't consider this a "real" celebration until the Bride's Money Dance. The band was primed to play an extended version of the traditional song, "_Guantanamera_" and any man who danced with my Babe during this time would have to fasten dollar bills to her dress. Needless to say, I didn't want any other man touching my Babe, let alone trying to pin money onto her beautiful gown with their clumsy fingers.

Several men had already lined up along the dance floor. They were ready, but so was I. Dawson had procured for me a sheer white overcoat that Stephanie would wear just for this dance. It almost looked like a form-fitting negligee robe; however, it was covered with a multitude of tiny pockets. Everyone had a good laugh when they saw my Babe shrug into the specially made garment, which fit over her dress perfectly, but I could see the calculating glances many of the young women and their mamas threw Dawson's direction during the dance. Something told me he would be getting a lot of requests for this new "Money Dance Coat" in the very near future.

The Money Dance seemed to go on forever, but the pockets on Stephanie's diaphanous overcoat filled up quickly. She'd have a nice chunk of change to spend during our honeymoon. Afterward, it was time for more of the "fun and games" part of the reception. The bandleader encouraged all the single ladies in the room to gather together on one side of the dance floor. Stephanie positioned herself on the other side of the dance floor and held the toss-away bouquet in her hands, and turned her back to the gaggle of chattering women. Her real bridal bouquet was already safely tucked away in one of the restaurant's storage refrigerators. I don't know why she wanted to keep it, but I wasn't about to argue with her over some flowers. I guess it was just one of those girly things.

After a long drum roll and several false starts, Stephanie finally flung the small bouquet over her shoulders and single women all made a mad grab for it. There seemed to be a bit of a scuffle, with a smaller knot of ladies inside of the larger group. I even thought I heard someone growling. Then the victor emerged; it was Edna Mazur! She held the bouquet high above her head and grinned with glee.

Next was the garter toss. Javier brought a chair to the middle of the dance floor and then joined the group of single men who had gathered on one side of the dance floor. The band struck up what sounded like strip-tease music after Stephanie sat down and I kneeled in front of her in order to reach up under her dress and retrieve the Superman garter. Although it was still a tight fit, I was able to slide my fingers upward and tickle the edge of my Babe's panties with one hand before my other hand emerged from her dress with the garter wrapped around my index finger. There were many wolf-whistles, cat-calls and general sounds of male rowdiness when Stephanie gave me a smoldering look which held great promise for later.

I kissed my bride deeply and then got into position to toss the garter. I, too, made a few teasing false starts before I flung the cute little piece of silk, lace and elastic into the group of single men. Not surprisingly, there was no scuffle. In fact, several men actually stepped away from the group in an attempt to avoid catching the talisman of impending doom. When Bobby Brown realized he was holding the garter, it seemed he almost went into shock. I could see the fear and resignation in his eyes when the bandleader told him he'd have to dance with the catcher of the bouquet. Hopefully, the photographers caught that on film.

The song we chose for the dance after the bouquet and garter tosses was a fast Latin pop song, "_Me Enamora_" by the popular singer, Juanes. ["It Makes Me Fall In Love"]

_Cada blanco en mi mente  
>Se vuelve color con verte<br>Y el deseo de tenerte,  
>Es más fuerte, es más fuerte.<em>

_[Every blank space in my mind_  
><em>Turns to color on seeing you<em>  
><em>And the desire to have you,<em>  
><em>Is more strong, is more strong.]<em>

_Sólo quiero que me lleves  
>De tu mano por la senda,<br>Y atravesar el bosque  
>Que divide nuestras vidas.<em>

_[I only want you to take me_  
><em>By the hand on the path,<em>  
><em>And through the forest<em>  
><em>That divides our lives.]<em>

_Hay tantas cosas  
>Que me gustan hoy de ti.<em>

_[There are so many things_  
><em>That I like about you today.]<em>

_Me enamora  
>Que me hables con tu boca<br>Me enamora  
>Que me eleves hasta el cielo<br>Me enamora  
>Que de mí sea tu alma soñadora.<em>

_[It makes me fall in love_  
><em>That you speak to me with your mouth<em>  
><em>It makes me fall in love<em>  
><em>That you elevate me to the heavens<em>  
><em>It makes me fall in love<em>  
><em>That your dreamer's soul be mine.]<em>

_La esperanza de mis ojos  
>Sin ti, mi vida no tiene sentido<br>Sin ti, mi vida es como un remolino  
>De cenizas que se van (ooooh)<br>Volando con el viento._

_[The hope of my eyes_  
><em>Without you, my life has no meaning<em>  
><em>Without you, my life is like a whirlpool<em>  
><em>Of ashes that escape<em>  
><em>Flying with the wind.]<em>

_Yo no sé si te merezco  
>Sólo sé que aún deseo<br>Que le des luz a mi vida  
>En los días venideros.<em>

_[I don't know if I deserve you_  
><em>All I know is that I still wish<em>  
><em>For you to give light to my life<em>  
><em>In its days ahead.]<em>

_Léeme muy bien los labios  
>Te lo digo bien despacio<br>Por el resto de mis días  
>Quiero ser tu compañía.<em>

_[Read my lips well_  
><em>I tell it to you very slowly<em>  
><em>For the rest of my days<em>  
><em>I want to be your companion.]<em>

_Hay tantas cosas  
>Que me gustan hoy de ti.<em>

_[There are so many things_  
><em>That I like about you today.]<em>

_Me enamora  
>Que me hables con tu boca<br>Me enamora  
>Que me eleves hasta el cielo<br>Me enamora  
>Que de mí sea tu alma soñadora.<em>

_[It makes me fall in love_  
><em>That you speak to me with your mouth<em>  
><em>It makes me fall in love<em>  
><em>That you elevate me to the heavens<em>  
><em>It makes me fall in love<em>  
><em>That your dreamer's soul be mine.]<em>

_La esperanza de mis ojos  
>Sin ti, mi vida no tiene sentido<br>Sin ti, mi vida es como un remolino  
>De cenizas que se van (ooooh)<br>Volando con el viento._

_[The hope of my eyes_  
><em>Without you, my life has no meaning<em>  
><em>Without you, my life is like a whirlpool<em>  
><em>Of ashes that escape<em>  
><em>Flying with the wind.]<em>

By the time the singer began the second verse, the dance floor was packed. Someone rescued Bobby from Edna, who gladly went into Wilber Sneed's arms, as soon as possible. I think his rescuer was Stephanie's friend, Miranda Montgomery. She looked extremely hot and Bobby looked extremely interested. I'd have to warn my Babe to warn her friend, though, that Brown was strictly a "player" and he didn't "do relationships." I wouldn't want Miranda to get hurt.

As the dancing continued, I saw a few other couples getting closer and closer. Alex and Mateo definitely were having fun dancing the salsa and merengue with their wives. Dawson and Abuela Rosa could tango like professional dancers and the love they held for one another shone through their smoldering looks. Santos and Tina were practically glued at the hip, which was no surprise. Valerie and Alberto looked very happy together as they danced both with and without Val's two little girls. Melinda and her date, Kaz, were having lots of deep discussions, and sharing plenty of deep kisses while they danced. Even Tank seemed to be making progress with Keira. Wonders never ceased!

The biggest surprise of the afternoon was Frank Plum and my Tía Carmen. They danced together as though they had been doing so for years. When I mentioned this to Stephanie, she grinned and said, "_I'm_ certainly not surprised. Why do you think we put them at the same table? Maybe something good will come from it and maybe not, but I'm glad they're both having fun."

As much fun as everyone seemed to be having, I was becoming more and more restless. I had gone outside with my father and several other men to enjoy the fabulous cigars and had to endure quite a bit of rowdy, but good-natured teasing. Each man had a piece of advice to give me and I tried to be patient. After making the rounds and briefly chatting with the people at each table, who also seemed determined to give us advice, I dragged my Babe back to the dressing room, where we quickly changed into our travel clothes. Miguel and Diego took our luggage out to the waiting limo and then informed the band we were ready to depart.

Finally, it was time for Stephanie and me to bid farewell to our family and friends and leave this great celebration. Our little "quickie" in the dressing room had calmed my appetite for a while, but now I was ready to move on to the "main course" – our honeymoon. While we were changing our clothes, many of our guests had assembled near the front entrance of the restaurant.

The band played a jazzy instrumental version of _Our Song_ as we walked toward the front doors. Stephanie took a few last moments to hug Edna, Valerie and her girls and finally Frank, before we hurried through the tunnel of friends and family who were pelting us with red, white and blue rose petals while we made our way to the limo. It was surreal. As soon as the door was closed and locked, we slowly pulled away from the curb, and Stephanie waved at everyone until she couldn't see them anymore.

I wrapped my arm around my Babe's shoulder and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. I briefly thought about having another "quickie" here in the limo, but decided against it. The next time I made love to my wife, I wanted it to be our true wedding night. I wanted all the comfort available to us and all the time to truly enjoy being together as a married couple. We deserved it. Stephanie gazed into my eyes and seemed to sense exactly what I was thinking, because instead of kissing me again, she snuggled up close to my side and fell asleep. After kissing the top of her head, and removing a stray blue rose petal, I relaxed against her and joined her for a short power nap. I had a feeling we wouldn't be getting much sleep after we boarded the cruise ship and that was completely fine with me. Everything was fine as long as my Babe was by my side.


	57. Chapter 57 Chapter 141

**CHAPTER 141**

_Stephanie's POV_

"Wow! Just Wow! This boat is incredible!" I cried, trying to look everywhere at once as Captain Vert gave us our own personal tour of the _Helena Rose_. He set a quick pace and I practically had to run to keep up with him. Carlos, of course, had no problem matching the captain, stride for stride. _Captain Vert; our captain's name is Green._ I was proud of myself for remembering my colors in French.

Our captain was a little taller than me, medium build, with dark wavy hair shot with silver. He looked to be about my father's age and he had kind eyes. I felt very comfortable around him. He was pulling out all the stops and showing us the behind the scenes running of a cruise ship. I guess our captain had been told by the cruise line's owner, Mr. Fergus Morgan, that we were VIPs and were to be given the royal treatment. And, boy, were we getting it! I would have to write Mr. Morgan a _very_ nice thank you letter for his generous gift of this fabulous cruise and to wish him and his family, especially his son Curt, a very happy and healthy life.

Today had been a nonstop flurry of amazing events, from our wonderful traditional wedding to our fabulous Cuban-flavored reception and now, our glamorous honeymoon aboard a luxury yacht. After the last song was played and the last morsel of the delicious dessert bar had been consumed, Carlos and I had changed out of our wedding apparel and into more casual clothes. Amidst the cheers and hugs of our family and friends, and the tossing of red, white and blue rose petals, we left _Rosa's_ in a fabulous limo stocked with chilled champagne and other goodies.

The limo drive to New York City was the first quiet time either of us had had all day. We spent the first few minutes cuddling and kissing. Even though we had 'consummated' our marriage just a couple of hours ago, we were still feeling amorous and frequent kisses were mandatory, but we decided we would wait until we got to our stateroom for anything more…_um_… energetic. But I guess the early morning wake-up call and the stress of the day finally caught up with us and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

When Carlos and I arrived at the pier in New York City late that afternoon to board the boat for our Caribbean honeymoon, we were welcomed by a very friendly cruise representative. He immediately took charge of our luggage and then escorted us onboard where we were personally greeted by the charming captain.

"Bienvenue á bord, Le Capitaine et Madame Mañoso, and welcome to the _Helena Rose,_" the captain said, shaking Carlos' hand and bowing low over mine as he kissed it. He was so charmingly French!

_Madame Mañoso!_ After today's pivotal events, there was a little chant going off in my head, '_Mrs. Mañoso_, _Señora Mañoso_ and now, _Madame Mañoso_.' I was now a _married_ woman married to an amazing man and I loved hearing and saying all my new married names.

Our captain continued with his greeting, bringing me back to reality, "I am Raymond Vert, your captain for this cruise," he said. With his thick French accent and his mature good looks he had me immediately under his spell. He added, "But please, call me Éclair; everyone does."

_Éclair? _My eyes got big, my stomach rumbled and I absentmindedly licked my lips.

Still holding my hand, the captain chuckled and explained, "Éclair is not only a delicious French pastry, Madame Mañoso, it is also the French word for 'flash.' When I was a boy, I used to run everywhere. Walking was too slow for me. My father, who spoke only French, used to say I was quick as lightning and called me Éclair, or Flash. The name has stuck with me through the years." I could listen to him talk forever with that sexy accent and deep purring voice.

Carlos, his brow furrowed slightly, put both his hands on my shoulders as he inquired, "Vert? Éclair? Given that you're a sea captain, is there any other significance to your name?" The two men stared at one another for a moment before the captain released my hand and focused his attention on Carlos.

With a sly smile, Captain Vert said, "Ah, the green flash! Oui, that connection comes up quite a bit. If you and your lovely bride are lucky, you too, may have a personal experience with the green flash once we sail the mysterious Caribbean waters." He looked directly at me as he spoke and then he winked.

Carlos replied, "I would enjoy that. It would be a first for me."

_Experience the Green Flash – Vert Éclair – our captain?_ I was aghast and stepped back from both Carlos and the captain, wondering why Carlos was agreeing to what I thought was a blatant invitation for a tawdry sordid three-way! Feeling a little queasy, but unable to resist, I blurted out, "_What_ are you two talking about?"

Unaware of my inner shock, Captain Vert gave me his full attention as he explained, "The green flash is a unique delight for lovers…" he paused for just a moment, "…of the sea. It is a rare condition where the optics of the upper atmosphere refract the sunlight into a bright green hue. The green flash is seen at sunset, sparking up from the sun just as it descends below the horizon of the ocean. It is very rare and lasts only a few seconds, and the atmospheric conditions must be just right. Most career seamen see it maybe once or twice in their lifetime."

Heaving a deep sigh, I relaxed, relieved to know we were talking about a scientific phenomenon and not a ménage á trois. "And you, Captain Vert… er, Éclair? Have you seen this mysterious green flash?"

"Yes. I have been fortunate to see it many times, but as a ship captain, my eyes are frequently fixed on the horizon. To witness the green flash is a special treat and not one I take lightly. It has long been associated with portents and good luck. Unfortunately, this evening there can be no green flash. The sun must set out over the ocean and we are on the eastern seaboard. But when we are in the Caribbean Sea, watch for it at sunset," he advised.

We had been walking the deck all this time, with Carlos on one side of me and the captain on the other, and now we were approaching the front of the boat, and the bridge. The captain turned to both of us, "I am pleased you are joining us for your honeymoon cruise. And congratulations on your marriage. My crew and I look forward to making this an unforgettable time for both of you."

Carlos lifted my hand up and looked into my eyes as he kissed my palm, but he spoke to the captain. "Thank you. I want only the best for my beautiful wife. It is our first time taking a pleasure cruise and I intend to make it the most pleasurable of times for both of us." In spite of the fact that we weren't alone, I was getting hot and bothered just by the smoldering looks my handsome husband was giving me.

Just then, the door in front of us swung open and Captain Vert quickly moved to the side. A tall, strapping young man dressed in ship whites stepped out and held the door open, revealing the ship's bridge room. He gave a respectful nod to the captain and a big smile to me, his gaze lingering a bit overlong.

Carlos put his arm around me and stared down the young sailor until he looked away. Then realizing we were keeping the captain from his duties, Carlos said, "We appreciate the opportunity to celebrate our honeymoon aboard your most impressive ship, but we know you're busy."

The captain beamed at the compliment and asked, "Would the two of you like to join me on the bridge as we get underway? It's the best view aboard." Carlos looked questioningly at me and I eagerly nodded my acceptance. I'd never been on a boat before and to be able to be on the bridge when everything was happening was exciting. It would be a first among many firsts I would experience on this honeymoon cruise.

The captain crooked his arm to me, so I slipped my arm through his and let him guide us onto the bridge where he took control of the helm. Carlos and I were given great spots to observe the crew as they prepared to raise anchor and get underway. As the boat left the pier, we stayed glued to the incredible vista before us. Manhattan "came to life" as hundreds of thousands of lights came on, twinkling against the darkening night. We watched the skyline of Manhattan disappear, then we cruised past Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, lit up and shining proud and true. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.

We passed through the Upper Bay, then the Lower Bay, and finally out to open water. That's when Captain Vert stepped away from the helm and stood in front of me. He bowed low and in an earnest voice, asked, "Madame Mañoso, I would love to show you all that the _Helena Rose_ has to offer during your voyage. Would you allow me to take you on a personal tour?"

We'd been looking out over the bow of the boat – that's the front part, I learned – and enjoying the sight of twinkling lights on our right as we cruised south, and away from the coast. Carlos moved closer to me. I smiled at the captain and replied, "Carlos and I would love a tour of your boat, but please, call me Stephanie or Steph."

Carlos pulled me against him and whispered, "You should feel honored, Babe. Most captains would delegate such duties to their second in command. And we're going to tour his _ship_, not his _boat_. Some captains are sensitive about that."

I almost rolled my eyes. Carlos was a stickler for calling things by their correct names. When he first moved in with me, Carlos had several guns. I had to learn not only how to handle them – _which I agree was smart_ – but I also had to call them by their proper names. He was not amused when I called his Sig "Freud" or his Beretta "Robert Blake," and heaven forbid I call his Glock "glockenspiel."

Before we left the bridge, Captain Vert handed Carlos a small, well-worn leather-bound book. "I thought you might enjoy this. Though, as honeymooners, I doubt you will have much spare time for reading." He looked knowingly between Carlos and me, causing me to blush furiously.

To distract myself, I read aloud the book's title, "'Le Rayon Vert' by Jules Verne. That means the Green Ray, doesn't it?"

The captain nodded. "Jules Verne wrote about the green flash over 125 years ago. He described it as a green ray, a green which no painter could ever obtain on his palette, a green of which nature could never produce the like! _'If there is a green in Paradise, it cannot be but of this shade, which most surely is the true green of Hope.'_ According to Jules Verne, those lucky enough to witness this extraordinary sight will for that moment in time be granted clarity into their own hearts as well as the hearts of those around them."

How romantic! Now, I simply _had_ to see this green flash for myself!

After our personalized tour was finished, the captain reminded us that we would be eating dinner with him later that evening at the Captain's Table and then left us to admire the ocean view.

"This boat is amazing," I exclaimed, leaning over the railing to glance down at the vacant deck below us. "It has everything the larger boats have, but without the huge crowds. And did you notice how quiet the engine is?"

"If you remember, Chief Engineer Clancy said the ship's state-of-the-art propulsion system provides a smooth quiet cruise, with little vibration or engine noise," Carlos said, joining me at the railing, his shoulder touching mine. "Also, Clancy told me that Morgan's line of cruise ships have a very small carbon footprint and have earned the international "green ship" designation for their eco-friendly features." Carlos pointed up to the solar panels attached to the sloping roof. "And once again, Babe, it's called a ship. Captain Vert will appreciate it if you call it a ship," Carlos reiterated, putting his arm around me as I gave a little shiver. Now that the sun was down, the evening was turning chilly.

"Well, whatever they call it, it's absolutely fabulous. I can't believe we get to spend two whole weeks aboard this floating city being pampered and waited on hand and foot." A young man wearing the all-white ship's uniform rushed past us, but not before tipping his hat and welcoming us aboard the _Helena Rose_. Everyone was so friendly. I looked up at Carlos, "Did you hear what Captain Vert said earlier? We're going to have our own full-time staff person to take care of our every need."

Carlos smiled and tucked a stray curl behind my ear. "All passengers get that. There's a one-to-two staff/guest ratio. Smaller ships like the _Helena Rose_ can offer that kind of personal, intimate service you just can't get on the larger cruise ships."

"_Hmmm_. I'm just glad to be here and I plan to take advantage of every service they offer. Massages, facials, saunas – you name it, I'm there. _And_…" I wrapped my arms around Carlos' neck, "…I'm especially glad that we get to spend the first week of our honeymoon alone. _Personal, intimate service, huh_?" I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. "It looks like the main scenic attractions are behind us for a while. I think it's time we take a _personal, intimate_ tour of our stateroom suite," I purred seductively, letting my body lean into his.

"You read my mind, Babe," Carlos grinned and kissed me back. "We've got seven days to ourselves before our friends join us in Florida and I plan to make good use of that time and good use of you and your hot sexy bod." I grinned at his not-so-subtle sexual reference. It was our honeymoon, after all.

Another steamy kiss and then Carlos titled his head and gave me the strangest look. "You have no idea, do you?"

"What?" I asked, having no idea what he was talking about.

"The effect you have on men." He was still looking at me funny.

I made a rude noise with my mouth. "You've got to be kidding? The only effect I have on men is to make them run screaming from me. Just ask my ex." I instantly regretted mentioning Dickie. He was my annulled past; Carlos was my living, breathing future. Carlos accepted me, as I was. Gratitude, and love, filled my heart.

I smiled up at him. "You, fortunately, are the exception. And I'm glad you like me, 'cause…" I stepped back and threw my arms up, but stumbled, still not used to the rolling movements of the ship, "…what you see, is what you get."

I grinned lopsidedly feeling a bit awkward and foolish, but the predatory way my man was looking at me sent a chill down my spine and straight to my nether regions. Carlos on the hunt meant I would soon be ravished and I was more than ready for that.

Carlos reached out and pulled me in close. "As long as I'm the only one _getting_ it," he growled. "I don't share, Babe, and the way the men on this ship are looking at you, I may have to fight for you." Then he crushed his mouth to mine, and all thought left me except for the wonderful sensations Carlos' kisses always gave me. I was tingly all over and tilted my head up for more. He didn't disappoint. There could never be any other man for me.

We stayed locked in our highly pleasurable embrace until a bunch of other passengers turned the corner on our deck. We broke apart and slowly strolled down the deck, hand in hand, enjoying the night sky. I absorbed every nuance: the twinkling stars, the rolling waves, the smell of the sea air. After all, with my husband's pronouncement that he planned to "make good use" of the next seven days, it might be the last time I'd see the ocean for a week; not altogether an unwelcome proposition.

Carlos keyed open the door to our stateroom and before I could even stick my head in, he swept me off my feet and carried me across the threshold. I gave a little scream of surprise and then I struggled between giggling and crying. The day had been so emotional and now, we were finally married and starting our life together. The one feeling I had no doubt about was my love for my new husband. And seeing the love shining in his eyes, I had no doubt of his love for me. I wanted to stay in his arms forever.

He carried me into the main room and twirled me around giving me a good view of everything at once and then he set me down. I clung to him for a moment and turned my head up so I could see his handsome face. And Carlos kissed me with a passion that nearly knocked my legs out from under me. This was, by far, the happiest day of my life. I was Mrs. Carlos Mañoso! With my arms wrapped around my husband's neck and his lips against mine, I was one contented bride.

Then Carlos turned me around and whispered in my ear, "What do you think of our honeymoon suite?"

I took a good look at our room. Our suite was something else again. I had heard horror stories from family members who'd been on cruises and were stuck in dark tiny rooms without windows and with no room to even turn around. In comparison, our suite was spacious and airy with enormous windows. I stepped over and looked out on our own private balcony that gave us 24/7 access to the bracing sea air and gorgeous ocean views. There was a large living room with a comfortable sofa and several easy chairs, a dining table, a mini bar and a large flat screen TV. I had to touch everything. The room was decorated in caramels, whites, and beiges and the décor was exquisite, contemporary, and of the highest quality.

"This is so beautiful. And it's all ours!" I exclaimed and ran my hand over the luxurious fabric covering the sofa. I glanced at Carlos. He'd been standing there all this time, watching me as I gushed over every little detail in the living room. I'd had an ear-to-ear grin on my face since I had stepped onto the ship and my body was quivering with pent-up energy. My new husband – _I loved saying that_ – must have thought I was nuts. And then, I just had to see the bedroom.

The bedroom also had a large window, a king-sized bed with sumptuous bed linens, and a mirrored dressing table, as well as a walk-in closet. The bathroom was huge with a Jacuzzi tub and… "Carlos, come in here. You _have_ to see this," I cried. I stood in the walk-in shower and slid a transparent panel back and forth revealing a large floor-to-ceiling window on the outside wall. Carlos poked his head in the shower, the barest of smiles showing on his face. I pressed my nose against the window and told him, "See, you can look out at the ocean as you shower." Turning, I watched his eyes darken and I blushed, amending, "As _we_ shower." His smile changed to a full-on 200-watt grin. He was still silent, though, and just watched as I jumped out of the shower and then, laughing, flushed the toilet and the bidet. I knew what a bidet was, but I'd never used one before. This cruise was going to have a lot of firsts for me. I fluffed up the bright white, oversized towels, a big smile on my face. I could get used to this.

Carlos quietly followed me as I dashed back out to the living room. After checking out the mini bar, I turned my attention to the bouquet of white calla lilies on the dining table. And the large magnum of French champagne cooling in the ice bucket on the sideboard alongside a basket of fresh tropical fruit. Each of them had cards attached. The flowers were from my handsome groom, a reminder of our beautiful wedding just a few hours ago, and the bubbly and fruit were courtesy of Mr. Morgan, but Carlos got both my thank-you kisses. I had one of the lilies in my hand and brushed Carlos' cheek with its velvety petal. Breathlessly, I murmured, "This is so much more than I ever expected. I'm actually feeling giddy and I haven't even had a drink yet."

"I'm glad you like everything, Babe. Would you like me to open the champagne?"

"Not yet." I moved to the middle of the room and was thrilled to see nothing but open ocean out the patio door. "I'm blown away. I never imagined we'd be staying in something so luxurious, so big, so… nice!" I exclaimed, laughing as I twirled around and around with my arms straight out until I got dizzy. I started to stumble and Carlos caught me in his strong arms.

My laughter stopped when I saw the intense look he gave me. His eyes were nearly black, and he was breathing deeply through his nose. The mood changed immediately. Without a word, Carlos lifted me up in the classic bridal carry and strode quickly into the bedroom. When he'd carried me across the threshold into the suite, it was romantic and fun, but this time it was carnal and powerfully sensual. I felt a rush of warmth flood my body.

We didn't talk, but our looks spoke volumes. The impassioned look Carlos gave me sent chills down my spine, in a good way. I got aroused watching his chocolate brown eyes darken as he slowly undressed me, removing one piece of clothing at a time. I'd worn some of the sexy lingerie I'd received at my office bridal shower and Carlos' caresses as he fondled it, and me, told me it was having the desired effect. There was no passionate rush to rip my clothes off; this was something else entirely. A smoldering passion was building between us, as evidenced by my hardening nipples and Carlos' rising erection.

He stared at me and at my naked body as if memorizing every tiny detail: goose bumps that sprang up everywhere his fingers stroked my naked skin, the way my hair dropped in soft curls around my shoulders as he released it from its confines, the rise and fall of my chest the more aroused I became. He was slow and deliberate with his movements, with his touch, and with his kisses. I was trembling with need before we even got into bed.

And then he surprised me. Carlos knelt before me, both of us as naked as the day we were born. He wrapped his arms around my waist and put his soft lips against my belly, slowly kissing every square inch, while I ran my fingers through his silky hair. My trembling increased the lower his lips went. With an unexpected gentleness, he ran his hands over my ass cheeks and down my legs and then slowly back up again as if touching me for the very first time. This was not our usual buildup to sex.

He laid his cheek flat against my belly and closed his eyes. I could feel his warm breath against my skin. He was so tender with me, I almost cried. With his head still bent, he gently lifted my hands to his lips, kissing each finger, and kissing my wedding rings twice, and then he turned my hands over and kissed my palms. As he brushed his thumbs over my sensitive skin, another series of goose bumps rippled across my flesh and my body shivered uncontrollably.

Again, not saying a word, Carlos lifted me up, cradling me in his muscular arms. He held me close against his chest, his body heat sinking deep into me. We moved into the bathroom and Carlos set me down on my feet and protectively wrapped one of the fluffy white towels around my shoulders. He quickly turned on the water for the bath and added a little of the liquid shower gel which immediately blossomed into a swirling mass of iridescent bubbles.

As we waited for the tub to fill, he led me over to the closed toilet seat and while I sat, he held a hand towel under the hot water and then wrung out the excess.

I don't think I will ever get tired of seeing my lover's nude body. He is perfection personified with his warm mocha latte skin so smooth and firm and rippling with muscles. Every inch of him is toned and rock-hard. And I know from experience that his nipples are super sensitive, and the area just under his arms and down to his ribs are his ticklish spots. He looks just as good – and sexy – from the back as from the front. He has a dimple indenting each chiseled ass cheek, and even when soft, his penis is huge. When he is aroused, it grows to an impressive length of eleven inches or more, and I get wet just thinking about it. Adding to his allure are the many scars on his body, a testament to the dangerous life he has lived – a life I can't bear to think about. It is simply too much to imagine this gentle loving man is also a hardened soldier trained to kill. I looked into his warm loving eyes and put that thought out of my mind.

Again, kneeling in front of me, Carlos gently washed my legs and feet and then wrapped the warm towel around my cold extremities. Too moved for words, I held his face in my hands and leaned down to kiss my Superman. His lips were trembling, though he didn't seem cold at all. Gazing down at my husband, I could see through his long black eyelashes that he had tears in his eyes.

"Carlos?"

He slowly lifted his head and gazed up at me with such a tender look that my heart caught in my throat. He blinked once and a tear rolled down his cheek, and then dropped on the towel covering me. When he spoke it was in a low quiet tone just above a whisper and I detected a slight tremor in it.

"You… you are so beautiful! And I am so in love with you, Stephanie. I never…" his voice broke and he took a deep breath before continuing, "I never thought I would have all this. I never thought I would have the love of so beautiful a woman. Babe, you are beautiful inside and out. I was attracted to you because of your physical beauty, but it was your inner beauty, your loving, generous and wild spirit that made me fall in love with you. And you keep saving me, over and over again. First, you saved my life that night 'that never happened' and now, as my wife, as my partner for life, you are saving my soul. I can't imagine my life without you. Te amo. Te amo con todo mi corazón." He laid his head in my lap and wrapped his arms around my hips. [_I love you. I love you with all my heart_.]

I was speechless and my own tears were flowing freely as I kissed the top of Carlos' head and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I felt just the same about him as he did about me, but I had no words to express it. Silently, we held each other and let our tears flow.

Long minutes passed before either of us stirred. I think it was the threat of the bathtub overflowing that finally brought us back to the here and now.

Carlos stood and helped me up, folding me against him as we embraced, the towel falling to the seat. Then he led me over to the suds-filled bathtub and turned off the faucet. We slowly lowered ourselves into the warm soapy water and got comfortable. We'd taken many showers together, but this was our first bath together. We sat across from each other and let the warmth of the water seep into our bodies, and the warmth of our love seep into our souls.

I rarely went two minutes without talking, but I was amazed how comfortable I felt not talking in this situation, even with the strong emotions we'd just shared. And now we were relaxing in the bathtub together, our legs entwined while we looked at each other across the mountains of bubbles and still we said not a word.

Carlos took my right foot and pulled it between his legs until my foot was resting on his chest. Then he started massaging my leg, his fingers firmly kneading the muscles of my calf. He leaned forward and let his hands slide up my leg and thighs, stopping just short of my pleasure center, but not before our eyes locked and I saw the tiniest hint of a grin on my lover's face. My breathing quickened and I felt the anticipation build within my body. I even scooted a little toward him, eager for his touch to get a little more… uh, intimate. To my disappointment, Carlos let his hands slowly inch down to my ankle and then my foot. He blew the bubbles off my toes and made me laugh when he lowered his head and sucked my big toe into his mouth.

It tickled at first and as he continued to suck and lick each toe, a warmth spread up my legs and into my belly and breasts. But the focal point of heat was centered in my pussy. I couldn't believe I was getting so turned on by having my toes sucked, but anything Carlos did to me was sensuous and arousing. He alternated to massaging my other leg and that did it for me. I couldn't take the heat building up in my body anymore.

Pulling my legs back, I sat up and crawled between Carlos' legs until I was lying fully on top of him. I tried to look as sexy as possible doing it, but I felt clumsy and awkward turning around in such a cramped, slippery place. And of course, bubbles and water sloshed over the rim of the tub as I slithered up my Superman's hard slick body. We were both laughing by the time I settled myself on top of him. And since I didn't want to crush his hard-on, I spread my legs a little so he could wedge his erection between them. That only exacerbated my arousal problem. Could we fuck in a tub? I immediately vetoed that thought. How would we explain a boatload of soapy water sloshing around our bathroom floor because as energetic as we usually were, there would be little water left in the tub when we were done.

Carlos interrupted my train of thought, sort of, when he began kissing me. Boy, oh boy, could Superman kiss! After several minutes of his ardent kisses and nonstop fondling of my slippery body, I needed to be fucked… immediately… the bathroom floor be damned! I shifted my hips a little until everything was lined up and then thrust my hips down. Shuddering with pleasure as he filled me, I groaned loudly and raised my hips again, but I was immediately lifted straight up in the air.

"_Carrrlos_…?" I cried in frustration.

Carlos continued to hold me by my hips until he could set my butt on the edge of the tub. And then he steadied me while he climbed out. With a quick reach he grabbed a clean towel and rubbed me down first, and then dried himself off.

I was still in shock from coitus interruptus and I was sputtering, "Why? Why did you stop me? I was… I was…" I was just getting into it and enjoying our first official honeymoon act of making love – I didn't count the quickie at the reception as part of our honeymoon, not officially. It was not like Carlos to stop any form of sex; prolong it, yes, but not totally stop it.

"I'm only human, Babe, and if you had gone down on me one more time, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself. If you'll notice, I'm not dressed."

_Duh!_ "Well, of course you're not dressed. We were in a bathtub. We were having sex. You're supposed to be naked during sex. That's the best way to _have sex_," I exclaimed rather loudly.

"No, I meant my cock's not dressed. No condom. And unless you want to join your friend Tina in being pregnant, I suggest we take this into the bedroom and let me put my party hat on." He grinned as he helped me out of the tub and then he squatted down and dried my legs and feet. "You never fail to surprise me, Babe."

I was in shock! It had been so easy to forget all about condoms and… getting pregnant. Both Carlos and I wanted children, but not yet. At least not until Carlos got out of the Army and had his business up and running. I knew I could continue to work even with a child. Dawson and I had already discussed opening up a daycare center at Books/Plum Designs. But I was not ready for babies… not yet. I was on my honeymoon!

I followed Carlos into the bedroom, subdued and thoughtful. He had already turned down the bed and he was lying there in all his naked mocha latte glory, a little foil wrapped package in his hand and a glint in his eye. I crawled in next to him, but I was no longer in the mood.

"What's going on in that gorgeous curly head of yours?" he asked as he pulled me in close and kissed the top of my head.

I lifted my head up so I could see his face, and then I sighed. "I almost got us pregnant. I want kids… I do. But just not yet." I put my arms around my husband's neck and kissed him. "We've had so little time together. I want the next year or two just for us. Lester and Tina seem so happy and they are really looking forward to becoming parents, but I want your full and undivided attention for a while longer. I love you so much, Carlos. I want us to be _just us_ for now. Is that selfish?"

Carlos kissed the tip of my nose. "No. That's real; that's how you feel. And I want the same thing. I look forward to the day we are both ready to be parents, but until then, we need to be careful. We talked about birth control methods when I first got out of the hospital and you said you had tried the Pill, but it made you ill. Babe, I've been using a condom for so long, it's no problem to continue with it. I don't want you feeling sick or having other problems going the hormone route."

"But it's so easy to forget a condom, like I just did. Maybe I should look into something like the three-month shot. That way I won't have to remember to take a pill every day. We can at least look into it. Besides, now that we are married I want to sleep with my husband with _nothing_ between us."

I could see a smile playing around Carlos' mouth as he said, "I'd like that! We can talk more about it when we get home again. For now, let's just concentrate on each other. I enjoy having _your_ full and undivided attention, too. And I want it… _right_… _now_."

I grinned as his mouth descended on mine, more than ready for the fire in my belly to be stoked into a roaring bonfire. And Carlos was _verrrry_ good at starting fires.

As we kissed, his hands stroked my back, my ass, my hips, and my thighs, fueling my lust. My hands mirrored his, running over his smooth hard body. His muscles flexed and rippled under my touch and I was getting wetter and hotter by the minute. Reaching between us, I wrapped my hand around his hard length and began gently stroking him.

Carlos moaned, obviously enjoying my touch. He moved his mouth from my lips to my neck where he gently sucked my skin, causing me to shudder again and again. I was going crazy with his slow foreplay. I moved my hands to his rock hard ass and tried to pull him on top of me. I'd never wanted him inside me more.

His lips kissed the shell of my ear and then he lightly bit my lobe and murmured, "Mi esposa, mi cariño, mi cielo. No pueudo creer que finalmente es mio. Me encanta cuando estás tan ansioso para mí. Haces que mi sangre hierva. Me da duro, sólo pensando que ti." [_My wife, my beloved, my heaven. I can't believe you are finally mine. I love it when you are so eager for me. You make my blood boil. I get hard just thinking about you._]

That did it. That sexy Spanish whispered so sensually in my ear, his body heat doubling my own, I growled, my voice husky with lust, "Carlos, _fuck me_! Make love to me. I need you… _now_!" And I also needed to learn Spanish. I thought I heard the sound of a foil package being ripped open and I grinned.

I spread my legs, eager to wrap them around my husband's hips, as he moved fully on top of me. He smelled heavenly, all man scent with a hint of that sexy cologne he preferred. Running my hands from his hips, and up his sides, I locked them around his neck and pulled his head down. As his lips met mine, he lowered his body until our chests touched. I arched into him, pressing my breasts against him, waiting for him to plunge into me.

I shivered in anticipation and then Carlos let his lips trail down my throat. _Okay, this is just a pleasurable delay,_ I told myself, _be patient and enjoy the journey. _I was not a patient person_._ But I moaned in approval as his mouth settled on my breasts. After dropping soft kisses on each breast, he began to suckle hungrily. I closed my eyes and allowed him to drive me totally crazy with lust again. He tortured each breast in turn, his tongue teasing my nipples into hardness. My moans got louder as he flicked them with his tongue and pressed them between his lips, sucking greedily. With my fingers entwined in his hair I held his head in place and demanded, "More. Harder. Don't stop." Like a good soldier, he followed my orders to a T and I felt any rational thought desert me. I just wanted more.

As good as everything he was doing to me felt, I couldn't stay still. I ground my hips up, rubbing my mound against his hard cock. The ache in my pussy was getting worse. I wanted that long hard cock inside me, and I wanted it _now_. With all the tingly electricity shooting through my body from his magical mouth and fingers, I wasn't too articulate, but I got the basics out, "Cock. Fuck. Now!"

Before I could do anything about it, though, Carlos lifted his head and looked directly into my eyes, telling me, "I don't want to fuck; I want to make love to my wife, my beautiful, kind, funny, intelligent, sexy wife." Then he shifted his body down, kissing and nipping my sensitive flesh as he went, driving me wild. I wanted my husband to make love to me too, as long it ended in both of us having mind-blowing orgasms after some serious fucking. I tried to shift my mind from its demand for immediate gratification to allow me to experience everything Carlos wanted to give me.

His mouth moved lower, onto my tummy, and I writhed in pleasure, knowing what he intended next. He didn't disappoint me; his kisses moved even lower, his hands parting my legs, his teeth gently nibbling on the sensitive skin on my inner thighs. My moans grew louder the closer he got to my pleasure center.

His eyes black with desire, Carlos looked up at me again, "Our quick fuck earlier today took the edge off, but it wasn't the way I wanted to consummate our marriage, Babe. I want you in every way possible. I want to make love to every inch of you. I want you to feel me everywhere, with each nerve quivering at my touch. You deserve only the best, each and every time we make love and I intend to spend the rest of my life making sure you get it."

What did I ever do to deserve such a wonderful man? Did I marry the best man ever or what? I leaned my head back onto the bed and tried to get my breathing under control, ready for the glorious sensations my husband was about to give me: the best wedding present ever!

He sank his head between my legs and in just seconds, his mouth found my slit. He flicked his tongue back and forth, parting my pussy lips and lapping my juices. I sighed, my hands playing with his silky hair, and allowed him to move my legs so they rested over his powerful shoulders. His hands slid under me, cupping and fondling my ass cheeks while he dropped feverish kisses over the insides of my thighs and then he moved back to my center. When he slid his tongue inside me, he drove it in deeply until he could go no further. I was whimpering in delight, writhing around as he began to fuck me with his tongue.

"_Carlos!_" I shouted, not knowing how much more I could take, but he wasn't finished, not by a long shot.

I felt him flicking his tongue inside me, and the feeling sent me so close to the edge I was screaming with excitement. Carlos pulled his tongue out and finding my nub, he sucked on it deeply. His hands moved to my breasts and he kneaded them sensuously while tweaking my nipples, adding to my ecstasy. I threw back my head and wailed in delight as he continued to torture my clit, touching every nerve embedded in that tiny, oh so sensitive organ. Carlos was giving me just what he promised. His talented hands felt like they were stroking me everywhere and my nerves were sparking under his electric touch. With his mouth latched onto my clit again – _omigod_ – I moaned deliriously as he devoted himself to pleasuring me. And, oh, was I pleasured… over and over again. As much as I wanted us to fuck, I wanted one of Superman's mind-blowing orgasms more, and nothing got me there faster than his talented tongue on my clit.

I spent the next several minutes floating on a cloud of bliss as he concentrated on that one tiny spot, and then it got really intense. I couldn't stay still any longer and started twisting and bucking until his strong hands held my hips down. His tongue continued driving me wild, flicking my clit faster and faster. My breathing turned to gasps and my moans turned to whimpers and I thought I was going to explode. I couldn't wait to explode.

"Oh, god, I love you, I love you, I love you," I cried. "I'm so close. Ohhh, yes, yes… YES!" My legs stiffened, locking Carlos's head between my legs. I could feel the burning heat and then… _POW!_ I exploded, screaming, "_Carrrrrrlos_…" Wave after wave of tight contractions rocked me, and finally, as the tension in my muscles let up, I released my leg grip on my Superman's head, a satisfied smile on my face.

Carlos also had a smile on his glistening face when he moved back up my naked body, kissing every inch of my quivering skin as he went. As our lips met, I tasted myself on him. Before I'd met Carlos, I would never have considered that a turn on, but now… there were no words to explain how aroused I was by that simple wet kiss.

As he gave me a final caress with his lips, I forced him down on his back, and set to work returning the pleasure. I noticed a half-opened condom package on the nightstand. It was good one of us was prepared; we would need that in a few minutes! I planted my lips on his and sucked in his lower lip, nipping it and dragging my tongue across it.

Wanting to draw out his pleasure as he had done to me, I had a strategy to slowly drive him crazy, which included teasing each of Carlos' erogenous zones in turn. Dropping my lips to his neck, I sucked and bit, earning a growl from my very aroused lover. I slowly moved my tongue down the front of his throat, teasing the spot just below his Adam's apple, earning me a throaty moan. Continuing down his sculpted chest, I gave lots of attention to his pecs and abs, and of course, his own sensitive nipples. As I moved lower, I kept my hands on his torso, stroking and lightly raking my fingernails across his taut muscles. I enjoyed the feel of his fingers playing with my hair.

Carlos closed his eyes, making humming sounds of pleasure as my hot breath warmed his groin. I tried to wrap my hands around his massive length, but couldn't completely close my fingers together; he was so big. I stroked him, readying him for my eager mouth. The touch of my wet lips to his cock was enough to drive him wild and he jerked at first. I moved my hands to his hips and belly and then, using my tongue, I swirled it over his hardened shaft and blew gently on it to tease him into further arousal. Carlos loved having the underside of his shaft teased and played with so I spent extra time flicking my tongue over the ridge and that little knob just under the head. He moaned again and again, his hands fisting in my hair, which made me hotter than ever.

To kick it up a notch, I began to drop hot kisses along his cock, as my hand caressed and tugged on his balls. I could feel them tighten under my soft caress. After licking across and under his balls, I continued to let my tongue slide up his cock. Carlos was so amazingly huge, I got excited just thinking of how he felt inside me. But I had other plans for him before that happened-and, licking my lips, I brushed my closed mouth across the head of his cock, going back and forth with my lips and increasing the pressure a little more each time. Then I opened my lips a little and kept up the rubbing and the pressure. "Babe!" Carlos finally cried out in a hoarse voice, his hands fisted in the sheets. I couldn't help but smile.

I let my tongue dip into the narrow slit at the tip of his cock before I took him into my mouth. Carlos groaned deeply as I began to move, taking him in and out, my hands teasing his base and gently stroking the crease between his balls while I focused on driving my husband wild with pleasure. I began sucking him, feeling him shake beneath me as he became consumed with the feelings I knew I was unleashing in him; the same feelings he had just let loose in me. He began to murmur in Spanish, and his head moved from side to side on the pillow as he called out my name repeatedly. I continued to love him with my mouth, drinking in his husky voice as I readied to drink his love juice.

But Carlos was too hot to wait, and hoarsely begged me to stop so he could be inside me. Reluctantly, I gave his rigid member one last soft kiss before I moved away, allowing Carlos to roll me on my back. I was so ready for him and spread my legs, eager for his magnificent length to fill me. Quickly, he slipped on the condom and entered me with one deep smooth thrust that buried him to the hilt in my waiting warmth. I heard a loud groan reverberating inside my head. I knew some of that sound had come from me, but Carlos also groaned in pleasure, murmuring, "You're so tight and deliciously ready for me. It's like coming home." Then his mouth devoured mine with hungry kisses, as I felt him begin to move inside me, setting the primitive rhythm that our mating always brought.

Most of the sounds I made were inarticulate moans, but I needed more and that's what I asked for, "More. Harder. Fuck me, Carlos." He rode me fiercely, his cock like an iron piston. I met him thrust for thrust, my arms clutching his muscular back and pulling him in closer and closer until it felt like our very souls had joined. We moaned together in ecstasy, moving as one in a dance as old as time. Our mouths could not be apart for long, but we each tried to kiss and nip the other's throat, neck, shoulders, before needing again to return to another passionate kiss.

My whimpers grew louder, and Carlos whispered endearments in Spanish as he took my body over the edge and I shattered deliriously in an overpowering orgasm. My scream of pleasure gave him renewed self-control, and he forced himself to wait for his release until he had given me still more pleasure. He knew my body well enough to know just where to stroke me,-where to kiss me, how to move inside me-and, in just moments, he had brought me to another round of deliciously intense orgasms-one after the other. I was writhing beneath him, wailing in such exquisite pleasure, that Carlos finally could no longer control his body. With another series of powerful thrusts, he exploded inside me, spilling his hot seed into the condom.

We lay breathless, tangled, and satisfied knowing we belonged to each other. As he rolled off me, gathering me to his side so that my head lay on his chest, Carlos couldn't resist placing another kiss upon my curls. I dropped a tender kiss onto his chest, as I snuggled close to him, deliciously satiated.

"Now that's the way to start a wedding night!" I sighed.

Carlos grinned, "I'm glad you said _start_, because that was only the beginning, my beautiful bride," stroking my back and kissing my temple.

I smiled to myself. I figured we had about a ten-minute rest until my Superman would be ready to continue. Each time we made love was better than the last and now that we were married, I would have a lifetime of this, of my husband driving me wild and making me scream with delirious pleasure. I felt a little guilty taking him off the market and depriving all those women of his amazing loving. _Yeah_, _like hell I did!_

**TBC**

_AN: Don't forget to check out the pictures that "illustrate" this story. We try to add some new ones with each chapter. The Flickr link is on our profile page. _


	58. Chapter 58 Chapter 142

**CHAPTER 142**

_Carlos' POV_

Today's Thursday, so this must be Jacksonville. We had stopped at a couple of other ports before this, and Stephanie and I had enjoyed getting off the ship for a few hours, visiting Charleston one day and Savannah the next. Steph had never been to South Carolina or Georgia before and I enjoyed touring these classic southern cities with her.

It was like seeing things for the first time as I saw them through her inquisitive eager eyes. While she was a beautiful grown woman, she had an endearing child-like quality about her that just sucked you in. But her week of total devotion to me, _to us_, was about to change. Today was the day our friends were to join us and continue on for the second part of our honeymoon cruise to the Caribbean.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that it was here I wasn't as thrilled about the arrival of our friends. I knew Steph was torn because she, too, had really enjoyed having me all to herself, but she also was more social than I was and was looking forward to having her girlfriends here, as well as getting to know my family better. She and I had spent a good part of the voyage locked in our stateroom… locked in each other's arms and I wasn't about to let anything get in the way of our alone time, not even family.

Our first day onboard, I had been overwhelmed by my feelings for my Babe. It had hit me like a ton of bricks. We were really and truly married! Steph was finally mine! And the sex, while always amazing, now was mind-blowingly phenomenal. Committed love makes all the difference!

Just eight months before, she had breezed unexpectedly into my life… like a tornado, and changed it forever. But then, I'd had to put my feelings for her on the back burner. No distractions allowed while on a mission. _Riiight!_ And while I was recuperating after the mission was over, it still seemed like a dream… a very good dream, but still not real. But after the wedding, reality sank in. This was the woman I would spend the rest of my life with… gladly, and thankfully. She'd been my guardian angel for months and now she was my own perfect angel…Ángel mío…Ángel en mis brazos y en mi corazón. [_Angel of mine…Angel in my arms and in my heart._]

_When I first saw you I already knew_

_There was something inside of you_

_Something I thought I'd never find_

_Angel of mine_

_You came into my life, sent from above, up above, baby_

_Better than a dream, such a perfect love_

_You're such a perfect love_

_And I'll adore you 'til the end of time_

_Angel of mine_

_AN: Excerpt from Eternal's "Angel of Mine."_

I had to chuckle. The first time our cabin steward came by to check on us, he got quite an eyeful. After that, he learned not to stop by so early in the morning and we learned to put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign. Yeah, the trip down the coast had gone by so fast. Too fast.

The _Helena Rose _entered a narrow bay, passed by a naval station, and proceeded to a small port of call. Captain Vert had told us this was his usual stop to take on new passengers, fuel, fresh food and water.

And speaking of food, the chef onboard had outdone himself and every meal was over the top delicious. Steph had complained to our cabin steward this morning that her clothes didn't fit as well as they had at the beginning of the cruise and he taught her a new term: _ocean air shrinkage_. He winked when he told her it was a common occurrence on cruises for clothes to "shrink," and that it happened to many of the passengers' clothes when the garments were exposed to the moist salty sea air. Steph seemed to like that explanation better than all the eating she was doing. If she had gained any weight though, I hadn't noticed and I was looking real close at her body… all the time. And touching her and caressing her. She looked and felt fine to me.

I couldn't get enough of my wife. _My wife!_ I loved saying that. And I loved knowing she was mine, _all mine_, and that everyone else knew it, too. I loved seeing both her wedding band and engagement ring on her left hand. It wasn't the materialistic value, but the symbol of commitment, of our union that I treasured. Men's heads turned every time we entered a room or walked by. I could live with that, even enjoy it knowing the looks I got were envious ones and the lingering glances Steph received were admiring albeit covetous ones. What I didn't like was any man thinking he had a chance with her. Steph displayed her wedding band proudly and loudly. We were both thrilled to be husband and wife. I knew I had no worries about her, but I didn't want her to be hassled by other men either. As for me, I couldn't keep my eyes or my hands off of her. I wasn't a jealous man or a clingy one, but I was a horny man. I was on my honeymoon, after all.

There were a few people standing on the dock as the _Helena Rose_ came to a stop. Steph leaned over the edge of the railing and excitedly waved to Tina and Lester, and Mary Lou and Lenny. We got enthusiastic arm waves back, plus a loud shout from Lester, directed at me, _"You're not doing it right. She's still standing."_ Leave it to Santos to mention something inappropriate. Then the rest of our group came out of the small office building next to the pier. Mateo and Lucia were smiling and holding hands, and Alex and Carolina had their hands full of shopping bags. Steph waved again and I yelled down to Lester, "_She's Army Strong_!" That got a shit-eating grin from Lester.

Steph gave me a puzzled look and, with an exasperated sigh at Lester's quip, I explained, "He said I wasn't doing it right if you were still standing."

She was still a little confused and her face showed it. I tried to explain, "We're on our honeymoon, Babe. And you… are still able to walk. Lester's implying that, as your new husband, I'm not doing my job right." Her eyes widened and then narrowed. She pursed her lips; I had a feeling Lester was going to get a piece of her mind when he boarded.

I could sense her growing anger as I pulled her close and stroked her back. I loved how she responded so easily to me, how her body molded so perfectly into mine. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Lester doesn't know you, Wonder Woman, or how utterly insatiable you are. I'm the one who should have trouble standing." I wasn't kidding. Stephanie was the only woman who even came close to keeping up with me. I stared into her beautiful blue eyes and was overcome with passion…once again. I brushed her lips with mine and then, unable to resist, I gave her a searing kiss. We broke apart and I caught her eyes, telling her in a fierce whisper, "I will never get enough of you; not even if we make love every day for the rest of our lives." She blushed – I loved that about her – and she leaned her forehead against my chest as my hand massaged the back of her neck. She gave a little sigh of contentment. Then I used that same hand to make a middle finger gesture to Lester, who was walking up the ramp with Tina in tow.

Lester's eyes widened and then he grinned, and I could feel my lips twitch as I leaned down to whisper in Steph's ear, "I told him you were Army strong."

Her immediate reply was, "Damn Skippy!"

She waited until Lester approached, his arms opened wide and then she punched him in the stomach. Of course, he just grinned and picked her up, swinging her around before we greeted each other with our usual unit handshake. Steph hugged Tina, who was jumping up and down in excitement to be going on a Caribbean cruise.

The rest of our group came on board and there were hugs and back slaps all around. Steph wanted to immediately show them all the hot spots and services on the ship, but first, everyone wanted to check in and stow their gear in their cabins. We agreed to meet at the bar on the sun deck in an hour, and get caught up on everyone's news and the aftermath of our wedding.

Later that day, the ten of us were lounging on the sun deck, each with our favorite drinks in hands. Of course, being pregnant, Tina limited herself to soft drinks or tea, but she made up for it by inhaling all the popcorn and macadamia nuts that filled the hollowed-out coconut shells scattered throughout the bar. Both Lester and Tina were excited about the prospect of moving into our townhouse after Steph and I moved down to North Carolina. We spent some time discussing the details of our respective moves and their upcoming July wedding.

Steph was now used to the gentle motion of the ship, but she never tired of the sights and sounds of the ocean or the changing coastal landscape slowly passing by. It was fun watching her share this experience with our friends as we cruised past the Florida coastline. Everyone was in such a good mood, knowing we had a full week of enjoying calm sunny days, eating an endless banquet of delicious food, and reveling in fun-filled nights of dancing, gambling and, yeah, making out under a balmy starry sky.

Our three long-time married couples looked upon this week as a second honeymoon and made no secret about their plans to spend a considerable amount of time alone in their staterooms. Of course, Santos would probably top them all, given the way he was constantly stroking Tina's arms and back and nuzzling her neck. Steph gave them the benefit of our personal experience to ask for a "Do Not Disturb" sign and to make sure they hung it on the outside of their doors _before_ they turned in for the night. The cabin stewards usually stopped by early in the morning to check on passengers and help them prepare for each day of fun and frolic. Of course, then I had to describe in detail the time our steward caught us still in bed, and we weren't sleeping or reading or watching TV.

As I talked, Steph blushed, but it seemed like she was getting used to being married and not feeling so embarrassed about our making love whenever we felt like it, which was pretty much 24/7. The night she and I first met – the night that supposedly _never happened_ – was a true indicator of our compatibility as a couple. We both have extraordinarily high libidos and on a cruise ship there wasn't all that much to do, at least that interested us more than each other did, so we spent a lot of time locked up in our stateroom. I don't think there was a piece of furniture in the suite that we hadn't made use of, one way or another. It was a good thing our room didn't adjoin another cabin because we both got very loud at times. The ship's configuration worked out so that our large suite was at the apex of the cabins on our deck. No neighbors!

But now, we were just hanging out on the top deck, relaxing with our friends. Mateo, however, wasn't too relaxed – yet. He quizzed Steph endlessly about her father. Frank and Carmen had spent quite a bit of time together at the wedding reception and Mateo had never seen his mother so interested in a man since his father had passed away. He wanted to make sure his mother wasn't going to be some "rebound" plaything for Steph's father. Both Steph and I assured him that wouldn't be the case. Then Lester punned about rebounds and bouncers, with an offhand reference to a certain incident at our wedding reception.

There was an awkward lull in the conversation with no one daring to look at Stephanie. The last part of our wedding reception had been wonderful, but the first part had been touch and go, because of Stephanie's mother and her bizarre actions and, of course, the bomb she'd dropped on us all about Morelli. And then there was the little drama of our "bouncer" Frank bodily "evicting" Steph's mother. _Thank you, Frank._

Steph decided to clear the air and bring up the elephant in the room. She turned to Mary Lou and asked, "What's the latest Burg gossip? And what have you heard about the police investigation into Joe Morelli's murder?" Everyone turned and looked at Mary Lou. I hadn't seen any need to tell Steph about my friends' continued surveillance of Morelli, and now that Morelli was dead it seemed a moot point. But I didn't want to be keeping things from her either.

Mary Lou looked embarrassed with several furtive glances at Lenny before she cleared her throat and spoke. "Well, you know the police have the man who shot Joe Morelli in custody. He's confessed to pulling the trigger, but claims the killing was self-defense. Something about an argument and Morelli threatening him with a gun. The big question was why Joe returned to Trenton in the first place. And the gossip around town is that…" Mary Lou inhaled a deep breath and glanced quickly at Steph and then at Lenny and then she nervously started tearing up her cocktail napkin.

"What? What's the gossip?" Steph said, but Mary Lou wouldn't look at her. "Oh, just spit it out, Mare," Steph cried.

Still not looking up, Mary Lou mumbled, "The scuttlebutt is that your mother begged Joe to come home so he could stop your marriage."

I could see my wife's anger building and mine wasn't far behind. Her mother had really gone into the deep end this time. Steph looked dumbfounded and angry at the same time. She shook her head, "I don't want to hear any more. I don't want to know."

Her friend put her hand on Steph's arm. "I think you should hear this. It might help explain some of your mom's odd actions." Steph just stared at Mary Lou, an unreadable expression on her face.

"When the police dug deeper into Joe's murder, they discovered several emails from your mother on his computer. She had sent Joe your wedding e-vite and told him this was his final chance to win you over. Her last email begged Joe to come home in time to stop your wedding."

Steph's face reddened and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was filled with disbelief and sarcasm. "_Jeez Louise._ I never thought she'd go that far. I never thought _Joe'd_ go that far. And, _of course_, Joe had to stop by Terry Gilman's for a quick fuck before he came to the church. _Oh Mom, what a sterling catch you picked for me_." Steph rolled her eyes. "I never wished him dead, but…" she let out a deep sigh. "Well, at least it's over now."

"Not quite," Mary Lou hedged.

"Now what?" Steph grumbled.

"When Joe Juniak confronted your mother about her emails to Morelli, she broke down."

Another eye roll from Steph. "So, she cried… so what?" Steph said, dismissing her friend's statement.

"She didn't just cry, Steph, your mother had a real breakdown… an emotional breakdown. She became hysterical and had to be sedated." Mary Lou was watching Steph closely and so was I. I wasn't sure how Steph would take this latest news. I knew she was angry with her mother after all that had happened, but I knew she still loved her.

"_Oh my god!_ How is she?" Steph sat up, a stricken look on her face.

"She's okay. Don't worry. Your father and Valerie were called in and they immediately checked your mother in to the hospital for observation. When she calmed down, the doctor and Juniak were able to talk her into seeing a professional. Your dad was pushing for her to see a psychologist, but she refused. After talking with her and learning more about her mindset, the doctor was able to convince her to see a grief counselor. She's already had two sessions and it seems to be helping, according to your sister."

"You talked to Val?" Steph asked.

"Yeah, I talked to your sister just before we left for the cruise. She said your mother is suffering from something called Masked Grief and maybe Disenfranchised Grief. Fancy words for repressed grief."

"What repressed grief? Don't tell me she's that upset about Morelli?"

"No, Morelli's death was just the trigger. The counselor said this probably all started when your mom's first love, Thomas something or other-"

Steph jumped in, "Tamás Farkas. Dad told me about him. He was Mom's high school boyfriend and Dad's best friend. He was killed during the Vietnam War. Dad said Tamás and Mom had planned to get married."

"Well, the counselor said your mom never allowed herself to grieve for him. You know how the Burg is. Stuff it down deep and _deny, deny, deny_. She immediately started dating your dad and got swept up in a new love, then she felt guilty for being so happy and not properly grieving for her first love. She's been suppressing all those guilty feelings for decades."

"Well, at least I know where I get my propensity for living in Denial Land," Steph quipped. Tina and Mary Lou nodded knowingly.

Mary Lou continued, "The grief counselor said your mother doesn't consciously realize her crazy compulsion to marry you off to Morelli was caused by her repressed grief over her old boyfriend and the life she never was able to have with him."

Lester snorted, "That sounds like a bunch of psychiatric mumbo jumbo… shrink shit." Tina shushed him and encouraged Mary Lou to go on.

Mary Lou glared at Santos, "Let me finish what Steph's sister told me. She said your mother's odd behavior really started when you got divorced and it got worse when Val's marriage fell apart. But her symptoms first began when her father – your grandfather – died, and your Grandma Mazur didn't grieve for him. Remember, your grandma started dating just weeks after the funeral. That made your mother really angry."

Steph nodded. "I remember when Grandma Mazur moved in with my parents. Mom was always in a bad mood, but so was Dad, so I didn't think anything of it. It's hard to adjust to living in a multi-generational household."

"The counselor explained that first, your mom lost her own dreams of living happily ever after with her first love, and then she lost the expectation of her parents living happily ever after when your grandfather died. Then you divorced Dickie and Val left Steve. She saw it as you two casually tossing aside your husbands, when she would have given anything to have had a life with… what did you say his name was?"

"Tamás Farkas; he was Hungarian like my mom." Steph couldn't help but roll her eyes again. "I didn't casually toss aside my ex and neither did Valerie. Our ex-husbands were cheating, lying bastards. Couldn't she see _that_?"

"I don't think so. She was too absorbed in her own pain. She was watching her hopes and dreams for her daughters fall to pieces and all her suppressed anger and grief came to the forefront and blocked out all rational thought. She got it in her head that while she couldn't do anything about her own life or her mother's, she could make it right for her daughters. She became obsessed with 'fixing' things for you and Val. She picked Joe Morelli because he was a 'boy from the Burg,' like her old boyfriend. He could give you the kind of life she always envisioned for you, a safe comfortable marriage in the Burg. In her own misguided way, she truly thought she was doing the right thing."

"I _have_ a safe comfortable marriage," Steph said as she reached for my hand, "to the only man for me." She leaned over and kissed me and then looked back at Mary Lou. "It's not in the Burg, but I don't want to live in the Burg. Why couldn't my mom see that her kind of life wasn't for me?" My Babe almost had tears in her eyes.

Tina said, "She's not thinking straight, Stevie. She hasn't for some time. Maybe now she'll get the help she needs."

Mary Lou nodded. "Val says your mom has agreed to keep going to a counselor and Joe Juniak has vowed to support her through it. He really adores your mom."

Steph asked, "Should I go home and be there for her?"

Several of us shouted "_No_" in unison, but we let Mary Lou explain things. "Your father, Valerie and your grandma are there and so is Juniak. They can handle anything that comes up. Plus…" Mary Lou sighed, "right now, your mother still blames you for not listening to her." Steph sat forward and started to rise, but Mary Lou gestured her down with her hand. "I know… you didn't do anything wrong. But the therapy will take time for your mother to comprehend the whole picture and the impacts of her obsession. It's probably best for you to stay away for a while. "

If I had my way, my wife would stay away from her irrational mother forever. I didn't have high hopes for a sudden recovery and it was my job to make sure Steph was safe and that included being safe from her mother's actions and negative words.

The conversation drifted to other topics and soon we were laughing and joking again. But I knew Steph would be worrying about her mother. I made it my mission to keep her mind on more pleasant things for the remainder of the cruise.

When it was time for dinner, we got dressed up and joined Captain Vert at the Captain's Table. In Stephanie's words, the dining room was decorated in "sophisticated splendor with impressive chandeliers dripping with sparkling crystals, pristine white linen tablecloths and gleaming silver service." In the reception area, there was even a striking Swarovski crystal rain tower that spanned two stories. Steph said the color-changing spotlight on the crystal tower gave the reception area an ethereal ambience. I had to admit it was nice and I know our friends and family were duly impressed.

Our group completely filled the Captain's Table and Captain Vert seemed delighted to have five attractive women to entertain, not that he ignored the men, at least not completely. The Captain and Mary Lou hit it off immediately when Vert discovered Mary Lou spoke fluent French and knew quite a bit about his homeland. I sympathized with Lenny as he uncomfortably watched his normally quiet wife transform into a sparkling conversationalist, laughing and enjoying the attentions of an older man. Lucia noticed Lenny's sullen mood and spent time talking with him and drawing him out, which helped soothe his understandable jealousy. The enjoyable evening passed by quickly. As usual, the dinner service was impeccable and the food was delicious. We all stopped in at the disco lounge for a short while, but everyone was eager to turn in for their first night aboard and enjoy their spacious staterooms… and each other. And I would be glad to have my Babe to myself again.

While our first day of our second week was spent cruising down the Florida coast, the next day we were in open water on our way to the Bahamas. Everyone slept in that morning and we didn't get together until our stomachs demanded food. When Steph and I had first boarded, we'd been told there was an early breakfast service, but we had never experienced it. For our first week aboard, Steph and I hadn't ventured from our cabin until they served brunch. It looked like our second week would be no different and that our friends would follow our sensible example.

When we arrived at the Bahamas on our third day out, we were given our choice of tour options, such as sightseeing in one of the old towns, parasailing or snorkeling. It was a close vote, but the women won out and instead of parasailing we spent a relaxing day on a pristine white sand beach. A small boat took the ten of us to Cat Island, to a stunningly beautiful beach on Fernandez Cay. The isolated beach where the boat dropped us and our supplies off was lined with coconut palms, palmettos, and casuarina trees and looked out on gin-clear waters.

We thought we had the place to ourselves, but screams from Tina when she went to relieve herself in the bushes revealed we shared this beach with, as Steph called it, "one exceptionally ugly lizard." Mateo informed Steph the proper term for our beach "host" was rock iguana. And he was one big ugly dude, measuring over five feet from head to tail.

We grumbled a little when all the girls insisted we move to the other end of the crescent-shaped beach that seemed to be iguana-free. We didn't have a lot of gear, but we did have a couple of beach umbrellas, boogie boards, towels and two large ice chests filled with local food and drink. The day was sunny and hot and we were sweating heavily as we packed up everything. I think the girls enjoyed watching us flex our muscles as we hauled everything down the beach.

I know Stephanie enjoyed the "view." As soon as we got the new "camp" set up, my lustful bride beckoned me away from the others. The devilish twinkle in her eye and the sly smile she flashed me had my heart beating fast and blood rushing downward. With a "come hither" look, Steph disappeared into the brush. I took a quick glance back at the others, who all seemed settled in, so I wasted no time in going after her. My Wonder Woman was feeling brave and sexy and, as her Superman, it was only proper that I support and encourage her. Right?

Eager for a little afternoon delight _al fresco_ with my wife, I made my way through the dense undergrowth, but I couldn't see her. Hearing a rustling to my left, I pushed aside some low hanging branches and spotted Steph a dozen yards ahead of me. She had a couple of towels tucked under one arm and a couple bottles of beer clutched to her chest. Knowing my Babe, she probably also had a few of the local homemade versions of Bounty Bars, a sweet coconut confection popular here in the Islands. My Babe sure loved her sweets. I just hoped she was as eager to sample my long bar which was getting longer with each lustful thought I had.

By the time I caught up with Steph, she had already laid out two towels underneath a thick grove of palm trees. I was glad for the shade; it was a hot day. The bottles of beer were buried halfway into the sand in a shady spot and nestled next to them were four coconut bars. Steph was learning to always be prepared when I was around; neither of us wanted her rumbling stomach to come between us or our love-making. I quickly assessed our surroundings and was pleased she had chosen a small clearing under the palms where dense bushes shielded us from view from anyone on the beach, but there was a great ocean overlook on the other side allowing a cool breeze to reach us.

I gazed at my lovely bride. She was smiling shyly now that we were alone and face-to-face. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, which was freshly scrubbed; she wasn't wearing any makeup. Her skimpy blue and white bikini left little to the imagination, though my imagination was working overtime. She was so beautiful; I couldn't take my eyes off of her and my body was reacting strongly. Even after several months of us sharing a bed, and after a week of nonstop honeymoon sex, I was still powerless before her. I had been from the first moment I'd seen her in that hotel bar so many months ago. I wanted her; I ached for her. And even with the loose board shorts I was wearing, I knew my lust for her was showing.

Steph's eyes lowered and she took in my chest covered in a fine sheen of sweat. When her eyes reached my groin, she smiled widely. She dropped to her knees and patted the towel with her hand, looking coyly up at me. Her lips parted a little and she ran her tongue slowly across her upper lip, staring at my crotch the entire time. I nearly lost it right then and there, anticipating that talented tongue driving me wild with desire. I wasted no time in joining her, kneeling and then pulling her down on top of me as I rolled onto my back. It was heaven to feel her smooth skin sliding across mine and it took just the slightest movement of my hips until my growing erection was tight up against her pussy.

Breathless, Steph gave me a quick kiss and then tilted her head back a little, grinning, "I've never done it outdoors. This is exciting. What if we get caught?"

"That's what makes it so arousing. It's the thrill. Still want to do this?" I asked, nibbling on her ear.

"YES!" she exclaimed loudly. Sounds carried in this quiet environment. I had no doubt that once we got started the others in our group would know not only where we were, but also what we were doing. And I knew they would be wishing it were them.

"I want to do this before we get too involved with swimming and surfing," she explained, a slow grin forming. "I've heard that sand in the wrong places can be extremely annoying, if not actually painful."

I could attest to that, but neither of us needed to hear about my past sex life. It was in the past, and Stephanie was my present and future and that's all that mattered. And I surely didn't want to cause her any pain, physical or emotional. Plus, "sex first" was always my motto. I ran my hands up her back intending to pull her head down to mine, but she beat me to it.

My sexy wife planted her luscious lips on mine as her fingers trailed down my chest and any thoughts I had of my past were wiped clean. I gasped as those same fingers slid beneath the waistband of my shorts and grabbed my dick. She obviously wasn't in the mood for slow and easy.

Her second kiss showed me exactly what she wanted as she thrust her tongue into my mouth. Christ, she was so unpredictable. I'd been prepared for a slow and languorous encounter, as it was hot and humid here in the Bahamas, but now I was ready for some fast action. I untied the halter-top of her bikini and felt her warm soft breasts brush against my chest. Her bottoms had little ties on the sides and I made short work of them, letting my hands explore her newly exposed creamy white ass. Before we left this little Garden of Eden, I'd have to rub sunblock all over her tender white skin. I didn't want my Babe to burn, at least externally.

Her stroking of my length had me breathing hard. "I like it when you're already hard," she grinned. "And that's what I want: fast and hard." Then she moved down my body and released my cock from my shorts. A few quick wet kisses on the tip and she licked her way down the shaft, blowing on the wetness and I felt a welcome chill rush up my spine. Holding my cock up, she teased the underside with her tongue and then she scraped her teeth lightly along the ridge, making me shiver and gasp. When Steph covered my dick with her entire mouth, taking in so much of me, I almost lost it. She was giving my cock such hot and hungry kisses, I couldn't help but groan with delight. My Babe glanced up at me as I voiced my pleasure, and she grinned, reveling in the power she had over me. She was devouring me as if she hadn't eaten in days. At this rate, I wasn't going to last long.

And still her kisses went on, alternating from teasing feather soft, to hard demanding sucking that damn near brought me to climax right then. She caressed and tugged on my balls, while she gently stroked my throbbing shaft, and then she readied herself to ride me into the most satisfying climax of my life. I was totally hers, and her appetite was growing stronger with every moment. She hovered over me with sunlight streaming through her hair, looking like a goddess. I was more than ready to worship at her altar.

Realizing what she was about to do, I made a frantic reach for my pocket and found one of the condoms I always carried with me. Steph ripped it out of my hands and tore it open. With quick precision, she slid it onto my length and gave me a searing hot kiss.

Without haste, she swung her leg over my hips, and centering herself, plunged over my shaft, burying my hardness in her wet dripping honeyed walls. She always amazed me when she took my entire length into her pussy in one stroke. Steph didn't do anything in half measures. She groaned with pleasure as she began to rotate in ever widening circles, adjusting her speed as she rode me into absolute bliss. As she pumped up and down, she watched my face, and I watched hers as she obviously enjoyed the feel of me inside of her. And I was absolutely loving being inside of her. This time Steph was calling all the shots, and I had no problem not being in charge. I didn't mind, and she enjoyed every second of it. This was my wife, my adventurous, sexy, uninhibited wild wife. I was going to remember this day for the rest of my life.

But she was only getting started! She took my hands, and stretched them over my head using the position I preferred her in, her hands holding me in place as her pelvis ground frantically over me. Of course, I could reverse our positions any time I wanted to, but Steph playing the dominant was sexy as hell. I kept my hands over my head and enjoyed the ride.

Her mouth took mine again, hungrily, savagely, forcing me to respond to her as I surrendered to her boundless lust for me. As her hips undulated sensuously over mine, I could feel my orgasm start. And then she came, convulsing in waves upon waves of orgasms, and she tightened around my rock hard shaft as I exploded inside her. We both groaned in satisfaction, and she dropped gentle kisses over me as she enjoyed the look of total release on my face. What did I do to deserve such an amazing woman?

We spent the rest of the day with our friends, swimming, surfing, sunning and swigging coconut water laced with rum. It was a wonderfully lazy day and a perfect introduction to the rest of the cruise.

**TBC**


	59. Chapter 59 Chapter 143

**CHAPTER 143**

_Stephanie's POV_

"_Mama needs a new pair of shoes_," Mary Lou shouted, a gravelly hoarseness to her voice as she shook the pair of dice. Bringing her clenched hand up to her face, she blew briefly into her fist before she tumbled the small red cubes across the green felt table. It was like she'd been gambling all her life. The dice bounced against the far wall and rolled several times before coming to a stop. One cube showed a three and the other showed a four. She'd rolled a 7. The crowd that had gathered around the craps table cheered and Mary Lou beamed. The dealer and his stickman made quick work of paying off the winning bets and raking in the chips of those not so fortunate.

I'd never seen my best friend so _take charge_, so bigger than life. I expected such wild behavior from Tina; Mary Lou had always been the quiet one. But right now, she was having the time of her life and I was having a blast egging her on. I was standing at the craps table between Mary Lou and Carlos, and Lenny was on the other side of Mary Lou. The rest of our group were scattered throughout the room, each playing their own kind of poison.

Our wonderful cruise ship was holding a casino night. The crew had set up a professional-looking casino in the ballroom, complete with all the most popular gambling games. We'd all dressed to the nines for the evening and were having a great time.

The stack of chips in front of my husband – _how I loved saying that, my husband_ – had been growing steadily with each new shooter. I noticed most other players with chips on the table tended to pick them up with each new roll, but Carlos left his winnings on the table. He'd frequently move a few chips to other spots, but he rarely took them completely off the table. I tried to count his chips, but the play was so quick and the bets changed so fast, I couldn't keep up.

Carlos took a sip of his whiskey and nudged me, handing me a black chip. He tilted his head toward the table, saying, "One for the money, Babe. Give it a whirl."

My eyes got big and I whispered, "I don't know how to play craps."

"Start with the Pass Line," he suggested.

I tentatively placed the chip on the bar that had "Pass Line" printed on it and looked up at the dealer. He smiled at me and nodded and continued to accept the other players' bets in rapid succession.

The stickman returned the dice to Mary Lou. Fueled by several Mojitos, Mary Lou's inhibitions had temporarily deserted her. She informed the crowd, "OK, I have enough moolah for one inch of stiletto heel, let's buy the second inch now." The crowd laughed. Another blow on the dice, another roll, another 7, another round of cheers even louder than the first.

I must have won because the dealer added a second black chip to my lone bet and I immediately reached for them. Carlos put his hand on mine and shook his head, saying, "Two for the dough. Let it ride." I chuckled at his continued play on words of the old rhyme, "One for the money, Two for the show." I left both chips on the Pass Line.

While shaking the dice to get ready for her third roll, Mary Lou sported a wicked grin and shouted, "Three's a charm and I'm about to get deadly with these dice. Let's try for a four-inch stiletto heel, 'cause Mama _really_ wants some sexy new shoes!" She rolled again and this time when the dice stopped, there was an eleven on top – a five and a six. The crowd went wild. Even Lenny came to life and hugged his wife. I had no clue how this game worked, but everyone around me seemed to know. Raising his hand above his head, Lenny shouted to his wife, "That's a high five and a hot six. You're one lucky hot mama!" They slapped each other's palms over their heads and Lenny reached over to kiss his smiling wife, their mouths making a loud _pop_ when they broke away. The growing pile of multi-colored chips in front of Mary Lou threatened to topple over, but she was oblivious.

The good spirits were contagious and the number of people grouped around the craps table swelled. Mateo and Lucia joined in behind us, followed by a cocktail waitress. Carlos ordered a Jameson neat and I ordered a Malibu Seven, made with _7UP_ and coconut rum, perfect for the Caribbean. After one sip of the yummy but potent drink, I decided to order plain soda on the rocks next time. I didn't handle my liquor too well.

The dealer slid my winnings – two more black chips – across to me and I glanced at Carlos. He just smiled and said, "Play the odds. Put your winnings immediately in back of the first two." Not really understanding what I was doing or why, I moved the two new black chips and placed them below the Pass Line, but touching my other two chips.

Mateo leaned over my shoulder and gave a low whistle. "You _do_ know how much each of those black chips are worth, don't you?"

I turned my head slightly so I could see his face. "No, I thought this was a $5 table."

Mat gave a low chuckle. "The minimum bet is $5, but the $5 chips are blue. The black ones are worth $100."

My mouth dropped opened and Carlos placed his finger under my chin and lifted it, grinning at me in amusement. _Crap!_ I knew crap about craps, or any gambling game for that matter! I calculated how much money was in front of me and swayed a little. The stickman pushed the dice toward Mary Lou, but he was staring at me. I quickly sobered up and turned my attention back to the action on the table, trying to figure out how the game of craps worked.

On her next roll, Mary Lou threw an 8 and the stickman called out, "Eight's the point." The dealer placed a black and white button on the big number 8 on the table. Mary Lou looked confused and I knew I was. The stickman informed her, "Eight is now your point. If you throw another 8 before you throw a 7, or crap out, you'll make your point; you'll win!"

Mary Lou nodded and got a look of intense concentration on her face. This time, when she picked up the dice, she held them out to Lenny and he blew on them.

Carlos leaned in and whispered, "If you feel lucky, put this chip there," and he handed me another black chip and pointed to the little white boxes on the middle of the table. I now knew that one innocent looking black chip was worth $100. I gaped at Carlos and he nodded, lifting his chin toward the little boxes. I took a deep breath and laid the chip where Carlos indicated, over the two boxes marked with four dots each. A little shudder ran through me. There was a time not so long ago, that one chip would have paid for all my food for several weeks.

What if I lost his money? I'd already watched the stickman rake in tons of chips from losing bettors. Craps could turn into a crappy game really quickly.

Mary Lou let the dice fly again and when they stopped tumbling the crowd screamed. Each of the cubes showed four little dots.

Carlos put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. "_Hard eight_, Babe. You lucked out and just won a total of $1640 plus your original bet," he informed me, his voice revealing a note of pleasure. I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what I did that won me such a jackpot, but I liked the rush I got from winning. I could see how someone could get addicted to gambling.

I gathered in all my winnings and lined them up on the rack in front of me. Frowning, I took two of the black chips and put them in Carlos' rack.

"Babe?" he looked at me quizzically.

"I'm returning the chips you lent me, but these are mine, fair and square."

"We're married now. What's mine is yours," he said. He started to return the chips, but I gently pushed his hand away.

"OK, I get it, but I don't want to lose your… our money. This…" I ran my hand over the chips in front of me, "is like free money. It's okay if I lose it. I don't want to lose your hard earned money."

He chuckled, "When I started playing tonight, I put out $500 of my own money. I'm now up by $21,000. I think I can afford a couple hundred."

I just stared at him, my mouth dropping open again. He gave me a 200-watt smile and leaned over to kiss me with one of his signature toe-curling kisses. When he finally pulled his lips from mine, I stumbled against the craps table and tried to remember to breathe. "Wha… what happens now?" I stammered and gestured toward the table. My lips were still tingling from his electric kiss.

He was grinning at me, the smug bastard, as he told me, "It's still Mary Lou's roll, but it's a come out roll. If you want to play, try the Pass Line again. Unless you can't focus on the game…"

Ha! He thinks just because he kisses me like that, I'll go all gooey and fuzzy-headed. And damn, he's right! I shook my head and concentrated on the play in front of me.

I put two of my black chips on the Pass Line and held my breath. Mary Lou rolled a 7 and the crowd erupted in cheers. I whispered to Carlos, "So, 7 is a good roll?"

He gave a slight head shake. "Seven is good only on a _come out_ or new roll, until you establish a point. Any other time and a 7 means you crapped out; you lose." Not really understanding that, I filed it away for future reference.

I moved my two winning chips in back of my original bet. Mary Lou rolled a 4. She looked at the stickman and he told her, "Four's your point now. Try to roll another 4; anything but a 7."

I held up a chip and raised a questioning eyebrow at Carlos. Once again, he offered a suggestion, "Place a bet on the Come Line." I did as he suggested. After all, he'd won me a pile of chips so far.

Mary Lou rolled a 10, the dice showing a four and six, and I watched as the dealer moved my Come Line bet up to the big number 10. Carlos leaned over and whispered, "You now have two different bets, one on Mary Lou rolling a 4 and one on a 10, before she rolls a 7." He indicated my chips on the Pass Line and on the big 10.

The crowd was getting antsy. Mary Lou had Lenny blow on the dice again and with a flourish she threw them across the table. Two fives turned up and Carlos barked out a low "ha!" and drew me into his arms. "You just _Came_, Babe, the hard way, just like you like it. Ten big ones. Was it good for you?" He winked and I blushed, slapping his arm.

Carlos loved teasing me and I enjoyed our playful banter, even when he made me blush. Carlos reminded me to pick up my winnings for my Come bet. Glancing at him, I joked, "What does it say about me if I get paid to Come?"

He quipped right back, "I'd pay to watch you Come, Babe… and come… and come…" The lust in his eyes sent butterflies straight to my stomach.

Mary Lou rolled a 6 on her next throw and then she rolled a 4. Carlos tried to explain she'd just made her point; she'd rolled a four to score, and that meant I'd won another $600. We stayed at the craps table for another half hour and then played a few of the other casino games.

Tina and Lester had tried their hand at the roulette wheel and lost miserably. I traded in one of my black chips for a handful of $5 chips and did the numbers thing and the black versus red thing at roulette, but it only took a few spins of the wheel to lose all those chips. I wandered over to watch Carlos at one of the poker tables, but he didn't look like he was enjoying the game. We left that table and soon found ourselves standing behind Lester, Mat and Lucia at the Blackjack table. Lester was making a killing and Tina was jumping up and down and clapping her hands each time he won. When one of the players threw in the towel and left, Carlos took his seat. Carlos quickly racked up another huge stack of black chips. It was exciting watching him win hand after hand and I had a huge smile plastered on my face. He, of course, kept a poker face throughout the game.

Tina and I enjoyed watching our men win hand after hand, but we were too cheap to risk our own meager winnings. We had shopping plans in the duty-free stores. Besides, it was more fun playing the glamorous vamp behind the successful handsome gambler, though Mary Lou had put on a great show as a glamorous _and_ successful craps player. And Lucia was giving both Lester and Carlos a run for their money at Blackjack. I had my heart in my throat watching her win and lose a ton of money.

We tried our hand at the different games offered until the stroke of midnight. The casino closed its doors at twelve sharp. All in all, it was a fun and profitable evening. I won nearly $2800 and Carlos stopped just short of winning six figures. Tina pocketed $300 and Lester walked away with $9,000. Mateo and Lucia weren't talking, so I assumed they had left most of their money on the table. And Alex and Carolina had abstained from gambling at any of the table games and stuck to the slot machines, winning a pocketful of change. Mary Lou and Lenny came away with several thousand dollars, which Mary Lou vowed would go to pay off their new washer and dryer with enough left over for her sexy new four-inch high stiletto heels. After seeing his wife in her new shoe purchase, Lenny approved wholeheartedly.

. . .

"But I've never swum in the deep ocean before," I whined, not as enthusiastic as I thought I'd be about our next adventure now that it was here.

Today our yacht was anchored near a large barrier reef off the island of Providenciales in the Turks & Caicos Islands and we were preparing to go snorkeling. Just the thought of what might be lurking beneath the surface had me shivering. I'd played in the surf at Point Pleasant off the Jersey Shore and did the same yesterday in the Bahamas, but had never ventured any farther into the ocean. However, seeing Carlos in swim trunks that showcased his magnificent hot body was worth pushing through my fear of things that go bump in the deep dark sea.

He rubbed my arms and my goose bumps slowly receded. "I'll be right by your side the whole time, Babe. We can hold hands and if you need to stop, we can stop at any time." He kissed my forehead and massaged the back of my neck, trying to put me at ease. "It's beautiful down there. You can see forever. There are amazing coral reefs, and tropical fish of every color under the sun. If we're lucky, we may see a Hawksbill turtle or two, or even a spotted eagle ray." _Great! I was worried about being eaten by sea monsters and he was hoping to pet them. _

I shuddered a little and shook my head. Carlos hugged me to him and whispered in my ear, " I won't let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?"

I sighed deeply. And then I nodded. I did trust him, with my life, but I was still scared.

Carlos helped me wriggle my feet into a pair of huge blue fins and then he showed me how to spit into my mask to prevent the glass from fogging. He pulled me to my feet and I clumsily hobbled over to the diving platform, tripping over my two XXXL feet. Carlos was wearing the same awkward-looking fins except his were black, but he had no trouble walking in them. _Why me?_

Carlos got down on the metal mesh platform first and then put his big hands around my waist and lifted me down to his side. The platform was bobbing up and down in the waves and I could feel the warm water on my legs. It was now or never. Carlos smiled at me. "You ready, Babe?" I shook my head. "I promise, it'll be fun," he coaxed. I looked back at Mary Lou in her pink mask and pink fins ready for her and Lenny's turn. She gave me a thumbs up. I pulled my mask over my head and stuck the snorkel's mouthpiece between my teeth just the way I'd been instructed.

Carlos held his hand out to me. Saying a quick prayer, I took Carlos' hand and inhaled a huge gulp of air, steeling myself for the plunge. Together, we stepped off the platform and, with my heart in my throat, we dropped into the bottomless abyss. Carlos had warned me to hold my breath and wait until my head resurfaced and then release the air in my lungs by blowing hard out the snorkel. _Right!_

Water was everywhere and I couldn't see anything for all the bubbles rising around me. Panicking, I fought my way back to the surface and felt Carlos' strong hands secure me to his side. I ripped the mouthpiece from my lips and gulped in huge lungfuls of air. While I calmed down and tried to breathe normally again, Carlos smiled at me and held me at the surface, protecting me from the waves of seawater that lapped around us.

"You okay?" Carlos asked, after he spat out his mouthpiece.

"No! I almost drowned!" I cried dramatically.

That got a snort from my husband. "I would never let you drown. I thought you said you trusted me?"

It was hard to _hmphf_ very effectively when you're trying to keep your head above the waves and watch out for scary sea monsters that want to bite your legs off. I was kicking my legs frantically and surging forward, making it difficult for Carlos to keep hold of me.

"Babe, are you trying to _whoo-jah_ sharks away? Stop kicking so much. With fins on, you're creating a lot of propulsion."

I slowed down and realized it wasn't so scary after all. I let Carlos support me and relaxed into him. Definitely much better! And then I even smiled a little. Carlos' mention of _whoo-jahing_ sharks reminded me of our night _that never happened_ and if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't be here on my honeymoon with the most incredible man ever. Good thing I didn't get my way that night.

Mary Lou and Lenny swam over to us and pointed down. They seemed to have no problem breathing through the snorkel tube. With the grace of a mermaid, Mare ducked under the water, her butt in the air and the last I saw of her were her pink fins disappearing beneath the waves. Lenny followed right behind her.

After a few minutes of treading water, Carlos asked, "Are you ready to do some snorkeling?"

Trying to be brave, I nodded, took a series of deep breaths and put the mouthpiece back in. Amazingly, I found I could breathe through the tube. With his mask on, Carlos laid his face down on the water's surface and then looked back at me. I took a few more breaths and tried it. It worked! As long as I stayed floating near the surface I could breathe easily through the snorkel tube. I was snorkeling! But Carlos made me do one more exercise. I had to dunk myself back underwater a little ways and then surface and blow air out the tube to clear the water out. I didn't like it, but I did it to Carlos' satisfaction. He beamed proudly at me and my confidence soared. Mary Lou and Lenny were directly ahead of us watching the two of us "practice." I waved to them and then gave myself over to Carlos' expert guidance.

The water was wonderfully warm and Carlos was right: I could see a hundred feet or more in front of me. He held my hand and off we went, lazily kicking our legs to propel us over the coral reef. It almost felt like we were flying. _Superman and Wonder Woman flying through water_.

As I focused on the coral reef, I found myself intrigued, in spite of my fears. Flitting and darting around the reef were literally thousands of brilliantly colored fish, all sizes and shapes. I kept pointing to different fish and Carlos squeezed my hand and smiled patiently each time I got excited. After a while, he led me to the reef's edge and I started hyperventilating all over again. The reef simply ended and there was nothing but a deep black abyss beyond. We continued to swim right along the edge with Carlos holding my hand and my heartbeat finally slowed to normal.

When the first sea turtle came into view, I almost panicked. It was huge! Carlos moved closer to me as the turtle glided past us. It was actually kinda cute with its big eyes and perpetual smile. The longer we swam, the more fascinating sights we saw. I was able to relax and truly enjoy the experience, but only because I had Superman swimming next to me.

We snorkeled for a couple of hours before Carlos headed us back to the yacht. I was water-logged, but happy as Carlos pulled me out of the ocean and back on "dry" land; well, back on the ship.

The ship motored closer into shore where the sea was much shallower and we returned to the water with our snorkeling gear on. One of the ship's crew joined the four of us and helped us catch our dinner for the evening: conch, pronounced conk, a very tasty mollusk. There were dozens of large conchs grazing on the sea grass. They were easy to pick up, though some of them were quite large. Mary Lou and I were fascinated by the slow moving mollusks and we loved the pink inner shells. Our guide explained that conchs have been over-harvested, but that we were in a commercial "farm" area where conchs were protected from predation and cultivated specifically for restaurants and cruise ships.

When we got them back to the ship, the crew member helped us get the conch out of their pretty pink shells and "field dress" them. I wasn't too fond of that part, but I had to admit eating the conch salad and the fritters later that evening was worth the effort. Carlos explained the salad was a type of ceviche, or raw seafood "cooked" in lime juice with chopped tomatoes, onions and cucumbers. It was delicious and reminded me of one of the dishes Ricardo had served at our wedding reception. Carlos was brave enough to eat a weird part of the conch, some slimy clear tube called a conch pistol, but I refused. It was supposed to be an aphrodisiac, _an island Viagra_, but the only stimulant I needed was a naked Carlos. And I knew Carlos didn't need any help in that department either. In fact, Carlos on Viagra was a scary thought indeed.

Later that night, we witnessed another amazing sight when the ocean around the ship began to glow and writhe with thousands of glow worms. We were told it was a mating ritual that happened soon after the full moon, and that the males died shortly afterward. It was beautiful, but I preferred my own mating ritual that always left _me_ glowing and my male exhausted, but still alive.

And speaking of mating, I rather enjoyed our _al fresco_ experience on the beach the other day and wanted to try it again, but this time on the ship and under a starry sky. As Carlos and I walked the decks after watching the glow worm light show, I waited until there was no one anywhere near us and drew Carlos into a dark alcove. I think it was the doorway to the engine room.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled his head down and gave him a blistering hot kiss. As always, Carlos responded by kissing me back with equal passion, and letting his hands travel up and down my back, paying special attention to my ass. I loved being kissed and caressed by my husband and was rapidly getting turned on. When I moved my hands to his chest and began to untuck his shirt, Carlos grabbed my hands, "Shouldn't we wait to undress each other when we get back to our room?"

I smiled seductively. "Our clothes need to be loosened if we're going to make wild love to each other under the stars." I glanced up at the night sky filled with millions of twinkling lights. You don't see that kind of sight in Jersey.

Carlos stiffened slightly and tilted his head back. "_Here? Now?_" he asked, the beginning of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. A group of people passed by us, not even looking toward us. We were totally in the shadows and the doorway I'd picked was deep and wide.

I winked at him and licked my lips, whispering, "I don't want to wait. You told me to take what I want. And I want you!" I continued to pull his shirt out from his waistband.

The look on Carlos' face was one of a stunned man and then he grinned from ear to ear. I think he was enjoying every minute of my unusually aggressive behavior. "What the hell has gotten into you tonight, Babe? You're not drunk, but…"

I knew my husband well, even if we were only on our honeymoon. He was turned on and was waiting to see if I would really go through with my…um, threat.

I had had several glasses of wine with dinner, but I didn't feel drunk, just… empowered. "I'm not drunk… I'm horny, that's what's with me. And as for what's getting into me tonight…that would be YOU, my sexy gorgeous husband." I ran my hands underneath his shirt and caressed his bare torso, which got a rise out of him, if you know what I mean. "Now shut the hell up and kiss me. That's an order, Captain Mañoso." And my soldier always obeyed orders.

He fisted his hand in my hair and pulled my mouth to his, capturing it ravenously as his arm slid around my waist and pulled me tight up against him. As Carlos continued to kiss me, his hands began moving over my body, starting with my wind-blown mane of hair. He slowly traced my face with his fingers, moving across my shoulders, my back, my ass, and then sliding his hands down to slip underneath my dress. I was wearing a loose cotton sundress and underneath I was only wearing a thong. The feel of his rough hands on my smooth bare ass excited me, and I hoped, also excited Carlos because I was getting hornier by the second.

Moaning in delight, I wiggled my hips against him and felt his manhood harden to arousal. I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, and then I leaned into him grinding my pelvis against his growing erection. He let out low moan and I just had to kiss him, taste him, but before I could, Carlos grabbed my hips and held me still.

"Babe, this is a public deck. I know it's late at night, but there are still people about. We could get caught. Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice was harsh and low, evidence of his arousal.

"You once told me that you wanted me not to give a damn if anyone caught us making love. Well, your Wonder Woman doesn't give a flying fuck if we get caught while you give me a flying Superman fuck." I grabbed his face with my hands and pulled his mouth down to mine, planting one serious wet one on him and thrusting my tongue into his mouth. "Get the picture?" I growled.

I thought I heard him utter, "Damn!" and when he lifted my dress up, revealing my breasts, I knew I had him just where I wanted him. He took one mound in his mouth sucking hungrily upon it as his hand fondled the other one, teasing the nipple into a hard button._ God, I'd wanted him to do this to me all day! _His mouth then shifted to my other breast, and began to give it equal attention with his tongue and his hot hungry mouth. I bent over and took his earlobe between my teeth and nipped it gently, whispering the many delights I had planned for him. He didn't stop his teasing torture of my breasts, but he did let out a low groan.

I was dripping wet with anticipation, wanting him so badly it hurt. As if he could read my mind, my badass dug his fingers into my bare bottom, which hurt so bad, it hurt good… and just added fuel to the growing fire in my body. Carlos was also aroused. I could feel his hard length pressed against my belly, but I didn't touch him yet; I wanted him to be desperate for me, as he was always doing to me.

I slid my hand through his hair and played with it, messing it up and pulling his head to my mouth to receive my eager kisses. My tongue traced his lips, and I coaxed his mouth open, nipping on his bottom lip and then slipped my tongue deep inside his wine-scented mouth._ I couldn't believe we were doing this where we could be caught. But I'd had such deliciously detailed, sinfully wicked fantasies of Carlos and me doing this very thing ever since our Anything Goes fantasies._

Carlos groaned with pleasure, and he let one hand drop to my hips, fingering the strap of my white thong. My dress kept falling in the way so I helped my hubby out and lifted my dress above my naked breasts. Carlos used both his hands to slip my thong over my hips and down my legs, leaving me totally naked from my shoulders down to my sandals.

He rose back up, and stroked his hand along my short curlies, tickling and arousing me at the same time. Without warning, he plunged his fingers into my wetness, and I had to bite my tongue not to scream with the suddenness of it. It felt so good to have even that part of him inside me. Moving his fingers against my inner walls, a smile formed on his face as he enjoyed the sight of me grinding on him and whimpering for release. He knew just what to do to get me so turned on that there was no turning back.

I was getting close to coming, and Carlos knew it. But he was up to his old tricks and tried to take over my fantasy. With a sadistic grin, he pulled his fingers back and teased me by sucking them in his mouth. Turnabout's fair play! I pulled his cock out of his pants and, gently cupping his balls in one hand, I began to stroke him with my other hand. I watched him bite his lip and try not to cry out in pleasure. My hands moved faster, more urgently, and he began this groan that damned near sent me over the top just listening to him. _Omigod, this was even more exciting than I dreamed it would be! Why did I wait this long to try sex under the stars?_

I stopped suddenly and almost laughed at the wide-eyed disappointed look on his face. Unable to resist him for than a few seconds, I pushed him farther back into the alcove, and knelt before him, teasing him with soft kisses on his hard thick shaft. Then I let my tongue and even my teeth get in on the action, nibbling softly then harder, then finally taking all of him into my hot hungry mouth and sucking him until his hips bucked and he let out a cry that pushed me close to the edge. A flash of excitement ran through me. _Would Carlos' cry attract attention?_

Carlos gave out one last groan and lifted me to my feet. I couldn't resist ribbing him a little, "What's the matter, Superman? Can't stand the heat or are you afraid of getting caught?"

His voice was a raspy growl. "I've had enough foreplay, Babe. You make me so hot. I need to be inside you. And I won't stop until both of us come." He stared hard into my eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He was already breathing hard. My man _wanted_ me! And I _needed_ him.

"Hell, yes! Fuck me! Fuck me hard; fuck me now!" I growled, raising my dress and tucking it under my arms, ready for whatever happened.

Carlos cupped my ass with both his hands and lifted me up, my back resting against the door. With my arms around his broad shoulders and my legs draped around his hips, with one smooth thrust he plunged his huge shaft into me, his eyes closed and a look of ecstasy on his face. OMIGOD! Every time we had sex, that first thrust of his cock into my pussy shocked my system, and I was struck anew with the wonder of it. Moaning in delight, I tightened my legs around him and took him fully inside me, and felt my pussy walls stretched to their limits. He was so big, and I was ready for the fuck of my life.

This was my fantasy and I intended to make the most of it. "Open your eyes, Carlos," I ordered as I began to grind and rock on him as I took control of the action, saying the things Carlos usually said to me. "I want you to show me how much you want me. Show me how much pleasure I'm giving you." Carlos' chocolate brown eyes locked with mine as we moved together, his face displaying his obvious pleasure. He varied the speed and angle of his movements, moving not only in and out, but also thrusting side to side as we both groaned in absolute ecstasy. It felt _soooo_ good and we were both moaning and groaning loudly enough to be overheard by anyone on the deck, if there was anyone near us. The idea of being discovered like this only added to the thrill.

My breasts bounced as he thrust into me over and over again, and I chewed on my lip and whimpered happily. As my whimpers got louder and shriller, Carlos gasped, "Kiss me! Kiss me hard, Babe! I want… I want…"

"I know what you want. And I'm gonna give you everything you ever wanted, I promise you." I leaned in, teasing him with a soft gentle kiss, then gradually made my kiss harder and more urgent, demanding everything from him and giving everything in return. He hungrily devoured me, his tongue plundering my mouth as his body plunged deeply into mine in endless waves of passion. Using my fingers and nails, I stroked his shoulders and back, and then I tightened and relaxed my vaginal muscles, squeezing his cock over and over again. Carlos fought to control his body's response, not wanting this to end, trying to hold back so that he could enjoy our savage coupling even longer. I was determined to make him lose control just as I lost control every time we made love. I raked my nails across his back and bit his lower lip, sucking it into my eager mouth. But I was also losing control and couldn't help but cry, "_Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me_! Damn it, Carlos! FUCK ME!"

Déjà vu! I'd screamed out those same words before, many months ago. I smiled suddenly, catching Carlos' eye, and somehow, we knew that we were both thinking exactly the same thing-that night that never happened, the time we were in the alcove near the hotel elevators and almost got caught. The night that was burned indelibly into both our minds. The next few moments felt endless as we rocked back and forth in ecstasy, both groaning in inexpressible delight.

Finally, Carlos locked his eyes with mine. "I love you, Babe, more than I could ever express. And sex under the stars?" He leaned his head way back and glanced up at the night sky. In a growly voice, he said, "You never, ever disappoint. Let's finish this together, shall we?"

I nodded, and met his lips with another kiss. "I love you, too, Carlos. And I'm ready, more than ready for the grand finale." I moaned softly as he adjusted our position to allow him more leverage. He gave me a teasing kiss and slid his tongue deeply into my mouth, and I began to suck hard upon it as I ground my pelvis into his. _Carlos! Oh, yessss!_

He braced himself, his hands still cupping my ass and he began to thrust quickly inside me, more deeply than before, rapidly, urgently, ramming inside me and causing me to cry out loudly and spin into a vortex of pleasure. I tightened my legs around his waist, squeezing his shaft deeply inside me, and causing him to climax with a series of strong contractions. He groaned my name, my real name, as he surrendered to the delicious sensation of wave upon wave of pleasure crashing over him. I came, too, my moans joining with his as I was pushed over the top with multiple orgasms, each more powerful than the one preceding it. My scream was a reversed crescendo, trailing off to a low whimper as Carlos melted into me. Slowly he pulled out and let my legs slide down his until my feet touched the deck, my back still leaning against the door. We rested silently together, too exhausted to move apart.

And then the door behind me clicked.

Frantically, I slid my dress back down and smoothed it out as Carlos zipped up and pulled me away from the alcove. The door swung inward and standing in the light was Chief Engineer Clancy, larger than life. "Excuse me. I thought I heard someone banging on the door," he said.

I recovered quickly and tried to hide my grin at his choice of words. "I'm so sorry, Chief Engineer Clancy," I replied, "I stumbled against the door. Too many of those delicious rum cocktails." I had an embarrassed look on my face, which was not an act. A few seconds earlier and both Carlos and I would have tumbled into the Chief Engineer's arms and then I would have had the shipboard three-way I'd been worried about with Captain Vert.

"No problem, my dear," he smiled at me and glanced over at Carlos. "Sounds like it's time to get your pretty wife to bed, Captain Mañoso."

'_My thoughts, exactly_,' I thought and then realized I was holding my thong in my hand. I quickly tucked the bright white panties into the pocket of my sundress and ducked my head into Carlos' side, unable to hide the ear-to-ear grin on my face. Clancy must have noticed what I had in my hands because he blushed furiously and examined the laces on his shoes in minute detail.

Carlos was as anxious to leave as I was. "That's exactly where we're headed. Good night, Chief Engineer Clancy." Carlos gave the man a polite nod and led me away.

Catching Carlos' eye, I giggled and patted my pocket. "No sense in putting them on when I'll only be taking them off as soon as we get to our room, right?" I teased. "You ARE planning on taking me to bed, aren't you, Carlos?"_ Of course you are. Or I'll have to throw you down, here and now, and ravish you all over again. How could I still be so horny? _

My Superman gave me a wicked smile and slid his arm around me, his hand cupping my ass as we hurried down the deck. We couldn't get to our stateroom fast enough.

**TBC**

_AN: BTW, Did you spot the references to the first twelve titles of Janet Evanovich's Plum novels in the casino scene above?_


	60. Chapter 60 Chapter 144

**CHAPTER 144**

_Stephanie's POV_

Our last stop on the cruise was a surprise for all of us, in more ways than one. St. Lucia wasn't one of the biggest islands, but it was certainly one of the most impressive, most rugged and the greenest. As we approached the harbor there were two striking, steep green-covered peaks on our right. Directly in front of us was the picturesque harbor town of Soufriere, and on our left was a never-ending expanse of tropical rainforest.

When our ship had stopped at St. Croix two days ago, we'd all gone ashore together and explored the town of Christiansted. We had a lot of fun walking the cobblestone sidewalks and looking at the Danish-style architecture that also sported noticeable influences from its African inhabitants. Most of the buildings were solid stone painted in pastel colors with bright red tile roofs. St. Croix was the least touristy of the Virgin Islands and had retained its sense of history, which made it a great place to immerse oneself in the local culture. We also had some delicious Caribbean cuisine at Savant, a quaint downtown fusion restaurant.

After that great experience, we decided to mix it up when we went ashore at St. Lucia and explore the natural environment instead of the built environment. I was looking forward to an easy hike through the lush rainforest followed by a cool dip in a natural pool fed by a beautiful waterfall: a romantic interlude in a most romantic honeymoon cruise.

When the ship docked in Soufreire's port, in addition to the harbor personnel working on the docks, there were two familiar faces grinning up at us. I screamed, Lester whooped and Carlos sported his 200-watt smile.

Standing on the wharf, waving up at us were Tank and Bobby. I couldn't believe it. They'd both thought it over and decided a long weekend cruising the Caribbean with good friends was better than a boring lonely weekend at Ft. Bragg. Besides, they said they deserved a little R&R, too. So, they'd flown down to meet us in St. Lucia and planned to join us on the last leg of our trip back up to Miami.

Carlos found Captain Vert, who graciously helped Tank and Bobby get settled in one of the staterooms that had been vacated by a couple that had disembarked unexpectedly in Jacksonville. Then our little group left the ship to spend the day in St. Lucia.

The original plan had been to take a hike through the rainforest to Diamond Falls. But, while waiting for us, Tank and Bobby had met up with Wevel "Knievel," an old Army buddy who lived in Soufriere and ran a specialty guide service. It didn't take much for Tank and Bobby to convince the guys in our group to go with Wevel and try a more daring adventure: zip lining through the tropical treetops down a mountainside. I wasn't so sure about this.

We walked through picturesque Soufriere to Wevel's office where I met one of the most unforgettable characters of my life. Wevel was a big man, bigger than Tank and twice as black. He was quite a bit older than the rest of the guys and had packed on a few extra pounds, but he was still in great shape. Tank told me Wevel got his nickname "Knievel" because of his penchant for jumping motorcycles, cars and even Army Jeeps over obstacles and he'd broken most of the bones in his body at one time or another. And this was the guy we were supposed to trust to take us zipping through the trees?

Wevel wore a perpetual smile and had a deep rumbling laugh that was contagious. He even got Carlos to belly laugh in the first five minutes we were there. He not only hugged all the women in our group, but he hugged the men as well. No fancy handshakes or half hugs from Wevel. He was an all or nothing kind of guy.

He showed us pictures of what we were getting into for the _Adrena Line_ canopy zip line tour. Wevel explained that we would start out in the treetops, nearly 80 feet off the ground. The tiny platforms that we would jump off of were made of planks of wood – quite flimsy planks, if you asked me – and the wire cable looked way too thin to carry the weight of the guys, especially a big guy like Wevel.

Feeling a little dizzy, I turned away from our group toward Wevel's picture wall and studied the photos of people zip lining. Some were smiling, but most seemed to be screaming. That only made me hyperventilate. For some reason, zip lining at such high elevations had me shaking in my shoes, and this from the girl who always wanted to fly. _Go figure!_ I shut my eyes and took several deep breaths and by the time we were ready to load up the SUVs, I had calmed down enough so that no one noticed my nervousness.

While we rode in vehicles most of the way up the mountain, we still got our rainforest hike in because we had to hike a ways to reach the zip line takeoff point. Wevel knew his stuff and I learned a lot from him. He knew the names and characteristics of every bush and tree along the way. He pointed out many colorful birds, including the Jacquot, St. Lucia's pride and joy and the only place in the world this beautiful green, red and blue parrot is found. We also saw huge fern trees and delicate miniature orchids, among other fascinating sights. The hike was enlightening, though not just from an environmental standpoint.

Mid-way through the hike, Wevel seemed to be more interested in torturing his old Army buddies. Turns out he was Carlos' – and Tank, Bobby and Lester's – Drill Sergeant when they first joined the Army. And he wasn't about to let his grunts forget it. On the hike to the zip line, Wevel periodically barked out orders and insults to Carlos, Lester, Tank and Bobby. He still laughed and joked with the rest of us, but he got in lots of digs to his former trainees.

"Is that all the fuckin' faster you lousy sonabitches can march? What happened to you sissy boys? All you SOFs go soft when you transfer out of the regular Army. Why do you think you're called SOFs?" Wevel got some dirty looks at that comment, but none of the guys said anything and Wevel continued. "Oh, _excuuuuse meee_! I forget you asswipes don't know _how_ to think. You only follow orders, like good little momma boys. And don't give me none of that _Rangers lead the fuckin' way_. Us regular Army grunts are only too happy to let you SOFs get shot and leave the fighting to the real soldiers. Now, pull your fuckin' head out of your fuckin' ass and look smart, 'cause Old Sarge is here to kick your fat butts up this mountain so your pretty little lasses here can have some fun flying through the trees."

To my surprise, the guys stayed silent for the longest time and took the insults Wevel threw at them. It wasn't until we passed by a waterfall that there was a reversal of roles. With a huge cry of _Hooah_, all four Army buddies tackled the mountain that was Wevel and tossed him in the deep pool at the base of the waterfall. And then they jumped in after him and had a great time dunking each other and, in general, being obnoxious. Even Alex and Mateo joined in, though they were no physical match for the boys of Delta Force. Wisely, the women, myself included, were content to dangle our legs in the cool water, and let the guys rough house and let loose some of their pent-up energies.

There was a definite mood change in the group after that and the rest of the hike was full of laughter and good-natured jesting. I saw such a different social side of Carlos and I think the rest of the women enjoyed the lightheartedness they saw in their men, too.

Carolina and I bonded as we watched Alex and Carlos revert to their boyhood and challenge each other to one silly contest after another, like who could jump over the highest part of a fallen tree or bring back the most fruit from one of the trees that Wevel said was okay to harvest. Carlos usually won the physical challenges, but Alex shone with his knife skills, both in throwing and in carving fruit into beautiful shapes. We both knew the toll the long-standing sibling rivalry perpetuated by their father had taken on our men and we were glad to see them getting closer. And I enjoyed becoming friends with my new sister-in-law.

When we reached the station for the zip line, reality sank in. Carolina and I seemed to be the only ones who were scared of the idea of dangling from a thin piece of wire as our bodies whipped through the rainforest at lightning speed. Mary Lou, Lucia and Tina were excited by the prospect and, of course, all the guys couldn't wait to try it out. Carlos promised me he'd be there to catch me at the end of the line, but I had this image of me crashing into him and knocking him off the platform as I went zipping by into tropical oblivion. I always thought I would jump at the chance to "fly," but now that I was standing on a tiny platform high up in the air and looking a thousand miles down at the ground – make that a million miles – I was feeling nauseous… and scared.

Carlos was at the platform's edge laughing with Lester, Bobby and Tank, his face lit up in anticipation. I realized how excited Carlos was to do this adrenaline-pumping adventure with his Army buddies. He'd been taking such good care of me throughout the cruise and he deserved some time to do what he enjoyed without worrying about me. So I sucked up my fear, put on a brave smile and encouraged him to go for it. He resisted leaving me at first, but I convinced him I was fine and wanted him to have fun with his buddies. I kept thinking back to his time in the hospital and how close the guys were when they were together. But they had also been quiet and serious, coming off a long, harrowing and dangerous mission.

Seeing them together now was so different. They were laughing and joking and I'd never seen Carlos so relaxed and at ease with others. Being the daredevils they were, the guys had persuaded Wevel to let them forgo the harnesses, and with my heart in my throat, I watched Carlos, then Tank, then Lester and Bobby jump off the canopy-level platform with no other support than holding on to the T-bar as they rushed through the treetops at breakneck speed. I guess as Delta Force soldiers, they had to do such things and worse as a regular part of their missions, but for me it was scary as hell. The rest of us geared up in the embarrassingly tight harnesses and helmets and one by one I let the others go before me. I could hear loud shouts of glee from the guys and shrill cries of excited delight from the girls. Even Carolina seemed to enjoy the ride after her initial scream. Then it was just Wevel and me, standing on the small wood platform. Wevel snapped my carabiner to the line and looked at me expectantly.

I stood at the end of the planks, my toes hanging off the edge. My heart was thudding so hard, I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. Why was I letting this scare me so much? I kept telling myself it was an irrational fear, but when did I ever listen?

"It really is a safe ride," Wevel said as he nudged my shoulder with his. "I built it myself." Another nudge. "And Carlos is waiting at the other end to catch you."

I nodded, unable to speak as I stared out at nothing but open air and green treetops. _Where was Wonder Woman when you needed her?_

"It's a glorious feeling to be zipping along in the quiet splendor of the rainforest. Everything is so close and you can see the jungle from such a different vantage point. And, lassie, you will prove to yourself that you can overcome your fears."

I nodded again, but still just stood there, paralyzed.

Wevel gently dropped his massive arm around my shoulders. "Why did you let your Ranger go on without you?"

"My _Ranger_?"

"When Mañoso left the regular Army, he became a Ranger. Once a Ranger, always a Ranger. And lassie, he would never have left you if he knew you were this scared. Rangers may lead the way, but they never leave a man – or woman – behind."

I nodded once again and exhaled a tremulous sigh as I tried to explain, "Carlos needed this. Did you know he almost died on his last mission? He needs some stressless fun. And for him, doing this crazy stunt is fun. It's adrenaline pumping without anyone shooting at him. He needs some down time with his friends, time just to let loose and enjoy life. He doesn't need to be worried about me."

"Lassie, that man lives and breathes you. I never thought I'd see Mañoso so taken with a skirt – no offense meant – but that man is head over heels in love with you. If you don't go soon, he'll be worried. Now, you don't know me from Jack Schitt, but trust me, once you do this you'll be able to do anything. Just take a deep breath and step off the platform. The harness and zip line will do all the work. And remember who's waiting for you at the other end."

He was right. If I didn't do this soon, Carlos would be trekking back up the mountain to find me. I wasn't about to kill his buzz. He needed this carefree time. And being with the guys who'd shared his last mission with him, who'd stuck by him in battle after battle was part of his healing process.

I wouldn't get in the way of that. I wouldn't let my ridiculous fear get in the way either. I could do this. I will do this. What was that Nike slogan – _Just do it!_ Do it for Carlos! I could almost hear his voice, _"I want you to fly, Babe. I'll always want you to fly."_ Of course he would; he always supported me. I know it was trite, but Carlos was the wind beneath my wings.

And then it hit me! His support was immense, but I had to do this for myself, by myself; not for Carlos, and not for anyone else. Carlos would always support me, but I had to do things, even scary things, on my own. I had to stand on my own two feet or in this case, no feet at all.

I held my breath, counted to five and let the air rush out of my lungs. I closed my eyes and stepped off into nothingness…

Whooshing air! At first, that's all I could feel, but my hands were gripping the T-bar so forcefully, they hurt after only a few seconds. I kept my eyes shut tight, my other senses filled with awareness of how moist and warm the air was that softly rushed past my face. The only sound I could hear was the soft hiss of air whistling in my ears, and my nose was filled with the pungent earthiness of the rainforest. I opened my eyes a little and saw only a green blur. I opened them fully and gasped. The view was beautiful… but it was moving by me so fast. I focused my eyes directly in front of me and then I could see all the details of the trees and vines and… so much more. There were flashes of color as a couple of parrots flew across my path. I looked down and… _whoa_… that wasn't a good idea and jerked my eyes back up. And found myself grinning like a fool. This was actually kinda fun!

I was just getting into it and before I knew it, I could see a platform looming ahead and my Ranger was there, his arms outstretched to catch me. My rate of speed slowed the closer I got and then I was in Superman's arms. And I started giggling uncontrollably.

Holding me close, Carlos asked, "Babe, are you alright? I was getting worried about you." He unhooked me from the wire and gave me another hug.

I was on an adrenaline high and I _liked_ it! I caught my breath and shouted, "_That was awesome! I was __**flying**__, really, really flying!" _I pulled a little away from him and pumped the air. "I did it! I really did it! I didn't know it would be that much fun! This is the best day _ever_!"

I wrapped my arms back around Carlos' torso and squeezed until he wheezed, but he was beaming at me and I felt so proud of myself. I pulled his face to mine and kissed him noisily. Carlos turned me around to face our friends and shouted, "My Wonder Woman can really fly!" The rest of the group cheered loudly. I just grinned.

Just then, Wevel joined us on the platform and, after a knowing nod and a big smile to me, he started organizing our group for the next zip line. My mouth dropped open. No one had told me there were nine more zips, nine more platforms, _and then_, we had to rappel down the side of a Lansan tree, which is one of the giant rainforest trees with slick grey sides.

My heart sped up and it felt like it had jumped into my throat. But I took another look at Carlos's face and he was looking at me with such pride and love, I swallowed hard and stepped to the other side of the platform, exclaiming, "Me first."

Wevel grinned at me and chucked me under the chin. He gave my harness a quick check and clipped my carabiner to the wire and then gave me the go ahead. Carlos was standing right behind me, a big grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. After a deep breath, I grabbed the T-bar and stepped off Platform Number 2, and flew, really flew, screaming into the abyss of green.

. . .

It was the end of the last full day of our honeymoon cruise. Carlos and I were on our private balcony, enjoying one last sunset. Tomorrow we would dock at Miami and then board a plane for Trenton. I heaved a big sigh, feeling a little down.

I slid a glance over at my husband and felt my mood lighten. The official honeymoon would be over, but if I had anything to do with it, the honeymoon would _never_ be over. Carlos and I had had a spectacular time these last two weeks, getting used to each other as husband and wife, and spending time with family and friends. Now it was time to get used to being married.

Not only was this my first cruise, it was my first time snorkeling, first time catching my own dinner, first time making love outside, first time playing craps, first time zip lining – so many firsts. And Carlos had been so patient with me. Sometimes it seemed he was amused by my naïve enthusiasm, and other times challenged by my reticence to try new things.

Of course, none of what we'd done on this cruise was new to him. Carlos was the same age as me, but he'd already done so much with his life. And he was excited about the next phase he was moving into: marriage to me, teaching at Ft. Bragg, and beginning his own business. And because of him, I was beginning my own life, too; at least it felt like a new beginning. I would never have had the courage to quit my lousy job at EE Martin or take a chance at my own budding career designing lingerie at Books Designs – now Books/Plum Designs – a career that I loved, if not for Carlos and his unwavering support and belief in me.

So why was I letting this vague feeling of self-doubt mar this beautiful moment? Everything about my new life was incredible: my job, my home, my husband, and so much more. Sometimes it was hard to believe that this was really _my_ life, that all this amazing goodness was mine. This much good luck has never been a part of my life. I felt like Cinderella after my fairy godmother had waved her magic wand over me. I had my Prince Charming, my Superman who had a touch of badass Rambo about him. I had a great career that provided me not only with immense satisfaction, but also with a substantial income that allowed me to live in a luxurious style I was quickly becoming accustomed to. I had terrific friends and a wonderful new family-in-law. I had my health. I had Blackie and Rex, both Mighty Beast Protectors.

What more could I ask for? Why did I have this niggling doubt? And this whiny voice in my head, "You're going to mess it up, just like you always do."

I looked at the man standing next to me. His profile showed a strong, confident, handsome man. His posture was relaxed, his arms resting on the railing of our balcony. There was no tightness in his face anymore, no worry lines. I was pleased to see his hair was growing long again, more like when I'd first met him. He'd regained all his strength and vitality after his brush with death two months ago. Was it only two months ago?

He'd been quiet all day and I couldn't quite read his mood. What I had noticed is that he hadn't let me out of his sight, not once. We weren't a clingy couple, though we definitely had no problem with PDAs. But today, Carlos had stayed by my side and frequently found reason to touch me. Sometimes it was just a soft brush of his hand against the small of my back; sometimes he pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me, holding me for several minutes at a time. He rarely spoke.

Everyone else had been talking a mile a minute, trying to cram as much as possible into our last full day at sea. Lester proved himself to be the life of the party once again, keeping us all laughing and active, moving from one deck to the next, swimming in the pool or lounging in the hot tub or enjoying a drink or two at the upper deck bar. Tina was in heaven, enjoying quality time with her fiancé. Her bouts of morning sickness had slowed down and she glowed with an inner light. I'd never seen my friend so happy. She'd confided in me that they were treating this cruise as their honeymoon, as they weren't sure they would be able to have one after they got married next month. They were saving all their money for the baby. Babies were expensive, she informed me.

I was thrilled for Tina and Lester, but I was glad that Carlos didn't want a baby right away. As it is, I'd have my hands full trying to keep up with all my responsibilities at Books/Plum Designs from North Carolina after Carlos and I moved down to Ft. Bragg. I made a note to myself to schedule an OB-Gyn appointment as soon as we got home and look into getting birth control shots. Sometimes I get so horny I forget about using a condom. Good thing Carlos always remembers. I hadn't even realized he'd managed to slip on a condom the night we fucked our brains out on the deck of the ship. It wasn't until we got back to our stateroom and I unzipped Carlos again that I found him still wearing the condom. Even soft, he was so large the condom stayed in place. He hadn't had time to remove it when Chief Engineer Clancy nearly caught us _in flagrante delicto_.

And as for Mary Lou, after this week of vacation she had gained back some of her free-spiritedness she'd had in high school. I think being a mom had made her more responsible and calm, and yes, a little boring. But this week, I'd watched her regress in a most delightful way. The first time she wore a bikini to the pool, she got a couple of wolf whistles and that really boosted her confidence. From then on, she had no trouble strutting her stuff. Lenny also seemed to appreciate her wilder side as he was much more openly affectionate to his wife than he usually was. They both needed this week away from the kids, from the house and from responsibilities.

I saw a different side to Mateo on this cruise, too. You would have thought Mat and Lucia were the ones on their honeymoon. They were inseparable, at least when we got to see them. They spent most of their time tucked away in their stateroom. We teased them about it, but they just smiled mysteriously and replied, "Wait until you have kids, then you'll understand."

The surprising one, however, had been Alex. He was giving Lester a run for his money as cruise clown. Even Carolina had been shocked at some of Alex's wild escapades this past week, especially his reenactment of the Titanic scene when he'd pulled Carolina up with him on the bow of the ship and yelled, "I'm the king of the world!" It was as if he was finally letting go and reclaiming himself after living in his father's shadow for so many years. I also loved the playfulness I saw between Alex and Carlos, as if the two brothers were children again, trying to one-up the other in a friendly sibling competition.

And of course, the four musketeers, the four Delta Force boys were a real trip. They got a bit rowdy at times, but they were so charming and genuine they drew smiles and even chuckles from the other passengers. Tank was normally this big hulk of an unsmiling man, but he'd been all smiles the last couple of days. And I had the time to get to know Bobby a little better, discovering his love of karaoke and his talent at the impromptu pun. He had all of us groaning with his play on words; the worst one was _"May the Force be with you"_ whenever any of us complained about their shenanigans. The four Army buddies needed this relaxing time together and I was really glad Tank and Bobby had been able to join us. And it seemed my Superman now had a new nickname, as Lester and Tank and Bobby started calling Carlos 'Ranger.'

Carlos brought me back to the present when he moved behind me and spooned me, corralling me against the railing with his long arms on either side of me, his hands grasping the top rail. We were content to stand quietly together on our balcony and watch the sunset, which we had done each evening. And tonight was an exceptionally beautiful sunset. Lots of reds and oranges, with the turquoise blue sky shading to lavender and pink in the lower reaches, deepening to indigo and midnight blue in the higher strata. The yellow sun seemed huge as it slowly began to dip beneath the ocean's horizon.

And then it happened!

The green flash! The mysterious green flash I'd looked for every evening we'd been on this cruise. I froze. It was incredible! It lasted just a split second, but it was real. Captain Vert had been right. The green was like no other green I'd ever seen. I felt my heart contract once, like a light squeeze, and then it was as if a weight was lifted off me. I felt totally at peace; all my doubts were gone. The whiny voice in my head was gone.

Turning around in Carlos' arms, I tilted my head up so I could see his reaction to the amazing sight. He was smiling from ear to ear and when his eyes met mine, I knew he'd experienced the same thing I had. He looked at peace, totally at peace with himself and with the world – and with me. I couldn't take my eyes off his. It was as if I could see into his soul.

And in that moment, everything became crystal clear. I knew that everything would be all right. My life was just as it should be. _I _was just as I should be, with the man I would spend the rest of my life with… _happily ever after_.


	61. Chapter 61 Chapter 145

**CHAPTER 145**

_Carlos' POV_

Weak sunlight streamed in between the slats of the Venetian blinds and I slowly blinked the sleepiness away. I could feel Steph's soft warm body pressed up against mine. As clichéd as it sounds, this was the first day of the rest of our lives. The honeymoon trip might be over, but I was determined to extend the honeymoon atmosphere of our new marriage for as long as possible. Stephanie snuggled closer to me and the feel of her bare bottom against my groin made for an effective wake-up call, in every sense of the word. I breathed in the sweet scent of my beautiful wife's body and tightened my arm around her waist.

"Move like that again, Babe, and I'll take you just as you are," I murmured into her ear.

She sighed sleepily and replied, "Promises, promises."

So I fulfilled that promise.

Later, while we showered together, we reviewed the day's schedule. There was plenty of work ahead of us for the next few weeks before Santos' wedding and moving Stephanie down to Fort Bragg with me. I had scheduled a walk-through with Diego and the construction site manager who would be overseeing the renovation of the building on Haywood Street in Trenton. Now that I fully owned the building and the property on which it was located, it was time to transform it into my future business headquarters. I could hardly wait!

Although Stephanie also had a ton of work to catch up on at her office, first she needed to tackle some wedding plans with Tina. This morning, Steph had an appointment for her Matron of Honor dress fitting, and then she and Tina planned to have lunch with Tina's mother and one of Tina's cousins – the one who was her Maid of Honor – to go over the details for the wedding. Tina and Steph had talked endlessly about cakes and flowers and all sorts of wedding crap I never wanted to deal with again unless God blessed us with a daughter someday. And by then, she'd have had to wait until she was thirty years old to start dating anyway, so my hypothetical wedding planning days would be far in the future – if ever. Thankfully, Mrs. Minardo and Tina's cousin Angelina had taken charge of handling most of those details while we were on our honeymoon cruise, so my Babe's responsibilities were minimal.

After I made sure we ate a sensible breakfast of toasted whole-wheat bagels, low-fat cream cheese and fresh fruit, I escorted my lovely wife to her car, which I had backed into the garage for her the previous evening. Steph gave me a nice long kiss before driving off to her office. I had no illusions about her eating habits; no doubt she'd hit the Dunkin' Donuts™ drive-thru on her way to work to satisfy her need for a doughnut fix.

While I was driving down to Trenton, my military cell phone rang. I winced when I saw the caller ID on the phone's display. Bracing myself, I pulled over and parked my vehicle in a spot at the far end of a grocery store parking lot. Then I flipped open the phone and answered it. Calls like this usually weren't about anything good.

"This is Captain Mañoso," I said in what Stephanie now called my "official military" voice.

"Good morning and congratulations!" Colonel Striker's friendly voice crackled in my ear. "I trust you and that pretty little wife of yours had a good honeymoon?"

"Yes, sir," I replied cautiously. "We just arrived back home last night."

"That's why I'm calling you now," he chuckled. "I would've called last night, but I remember those 'salad days' of early marriage and, besides, my wife would kill me if she found out I disturbed your first night back, even if it _is_ for a good reason."

I smiled wryly. Undoubtedly, the colonel's definition of a good reason and my definition of a good reason wouldn't be the same. "Thank you, sir," I said anyway. "My wife and I appreciate your patience."

Now Col. Striker laughed aloud. "I'll bet you do. Listen, I just wanted to give you a 'heads up' about the award we put you in for. After everyone read the reports about what happened over in Iraq and then back here in Philly, we all agreed that your actions merit the Medal of Honor, so the packet has gone forward and things are looking good. At the very least, it might get downgraded to a Distinguished Service Cross, like the one you submitted for Sergeant Brown, but we're pretty sure your Medal of Honor will be approved."

The shock I felt at hearing this news was almost overwhelming and I was extremely glad I had pulled over into the parking lot. The Medal of Honor was the highest award any military person could receive. I didn't deserve it. When it came to stopping Al Rashad and his terrorist cell, I had only been doing my duty – the same as Bobby. If anything, we both should be receiving the same award – the Distinguished Service Cross – and I wasn't sure I even wanted _any_ award, especially since I wouldn't be continuing on active duty any longer than necessary.

"Carlos? Captain Mañoso? Are you still there?" Col. Striker's voice sounded worried.

"Uh, yes, sir. I'm still here," I quickly replied. "I'm just…very surprised, that's all."

"Yes, well, it's the least our grateful nation can do," he said. "You certainly earned it and I, for one, am glad you're still alive to tell the tale. Even though we both know you won't really be able to tell the whole tale."

Taking a deep breath, I began, "But sir, I was only-"

"Doing your duty," he finished my sentence. "That's what all you true heroes say. That's part of what makes you heroes in the first place. You see what needs to get done and then you go out and get it done. I'm proud of you, son. Now don't argue with me. This is a good thing."

"Sir, I don't de-"

"Yes, you _do_ deserve this, Captain Mañoso," the colonel insisted. "Don't you realize how many lives you saved? Personally? Even Sergeant Brown's account of your time amongst the insurgents sounded impressive. Your decision not to kill Agent Morgan yielded more usable intelligence than we'd received in over a year. Rescuing those cryptologists the way you did was very risky and very brave. And let's not even speculate about how many lives might have been lost if those crazy fools had blown up that city block in Philadelphia. You're a frickin' American hero, Mañoso, so just accept it already!"

"Yes, sir!" I replied. If the colonel had been standing in front of me, I would have been saluting him and he knew it.

The colonel sighed and said, "I'll get back to you as soon as the final word comes down, but I'm telling you now so you can prepare yourself. I think a little trip to the White House might be in your future, so start thinking about which family members and friends you'll want to attend the ceremony with you. The Secret Service will have to check them out beforehand, understand?"

Before he disconnected, I replied, "Yes, sir."

Then I sat there for a moment, trying to process what I had just heard. I took a few deep and calming breaths and then continued to drive. Part of me wanted to yell in frustration, because I really didn't want to have such a high profile. I liked being able to blend in and go where I wanted to go without much fanfare. Another part of me, though, was very excited and proud to even be considered for such an honor. I wanted to call Steph and tell her all about it, but I decided to wait until I could talk to her face-to-face.

Many hours later, Diego and I finished our meeting with the site manager and I felt better than ever. Although the walk-through took much longer than I had expected it to, the construction permits were in order and the renovations were well underway. Working from the lowest level upward, the underground parking garages were being converted to a small arms firing range, a medium-sized gym and some general purpose rooms, as well as some space for a limited amount of parking. Soon, the workers would begin to put in the framing for the office spaces on the first few floors of the building. So far, I liked what I saw.

Both Tank and Lester were out-processing from the Army this week. Lester, of course, would be busy with the wedding and Tina. Tank would be driving up from Fort Bragg to move into his new apartment in the town of New Brunswick, which was halfway between Newark and Trenton, as well as being the home of Rutgers University. As soon as Tank got settled, I planned to bring him down with me to meet the site manager. He, Lester and Diego would be my eyes and ears and, if necessary, my muscles, while I was down in North Carolina. And once RangeMan Enterprises was up and running, Tank would be in charge of the day-to-day operations and Lester would handle the new employee assessments and training until I returned.

I was thinking happy thoughts about my wife and our future life together as I drove home in heavy rush-hour traffic. Seeing Steph's silver Porsche parked in front of the house made me smile. After I finished parking both of our vehicles – facing the correct direction – in the garage, I strolled into the house, expecting to find Stephanie in either the kitchen or her home office. Instead, Blackie led me upstairs where I found her lying across our bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Babe, is everything okay?" I asked as I sat on the bed next to her and stroked her hand.

She sighed wearily and said, "I'm just thinking. This is my thinking position."

"What are you thinking about?"

"My mother."

"Oh." I started to have a bad feeling about this.

Steph pushed herself up until she was supporting herself on her elbows. Then she explained, "You see, I was having a really great day. Tina and I tackled a mountain of paperwork at the office this morning before my dress fitting. Then we had a perfectly lovely lunch with her mother and her cousin. Tina's wedding is coming together quite nicely. By the way, her favorite color is pink, so this is going to be a _very_ pink wedding. The flowers are pink. The cake and decorations are pink. My dress is pink, as are all of the bridesmaids' dresses. Even you and the other guys will be wearing pink vests and ties with your black tuxedos. It's all pink, pink, pink." She sounded a bit overwhelmed, which was no big surprise.

"Pink?" I snorted. "Santos is a dead man. He never said anything about us _men_ wearing pink."

"I'm sure he'll get around to telling you soon enough," Steph sighed. Something told me she'd had more than a few discussions with Tina about her color choice.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. "He probably thought he'd just spring it on us the day of the wedding. I can't wait to hear what Tank has to say about this." Then I gazed into my Babe's eyes and asked, "Now, why are you thinking about your mother?"

Steph flopped back on the bed and groaned, "Because I called her today."

_¡Ay, Dios!_ I thought, my blood pressure rising in anticipation. "What possessed you to do that, Querida?" I tried to sound casual and calm.

"Well, I was having such a good day, I thought it would be the right thing to check on her, tell her a little bit about our honeymoon trip and, you know, see if she's doing okay." Then she shook her head. "I should've known better."

Indeed. "What did she say?" I asked, still trying to sound calm.

"Oh, it was the usual," Steph replied. "She told me my choices were _not_ the right ones, and if I had only listened to her, everything would've turned out _much_ better than it has. I am, and I quote, 'an embarrassment of a daughter' and you are 'a terrible influence' on me, even though your family seems to be very nice. I don't know why I keep hoping she'll change."

My heart hurt at the pain I heard in my Babe's voice. Curses whirled around in my mind and I only wished I could hurl them at Ellen Plum for her senseless cruelty toward my wife. This was not how I wanted our evening to go, so I quickly made a decision.

"C'mon," I tugged at her hand until she sat up again. "Let's go. I know just what will cheer you up."

Her blue eyes brightened with hope. "Are we going to _Rosa's_ for mojitos?"

"No, it's Monday. They're closed, remember?" I reminded her. Then I declared, "According to _you_, the place I'm taking you is the next best thing, though. And I can get a salad there, too."

Stephanie sprang up from the bed and flung her arms around my neck. "Yippee! We're going to McDonald's!" Blackie, who'd been waiting patiently by the bed was now dancing on his two hind feet, as excited as Steph. She reached down and picked up the dog. Cuddling him, she said, "Sorry, Blackie, you can't come with us, but we'll bring you home a Happy Meal, with fries!"

Later, while my wife happily munched on her own ketchup-drenched fries, I made her promise me never to speak with or visit her mother unless I was there to support her.

"The bottom line is this, Babe: even though she's been getting professional help for all of her issues, your mother is still a bully," I said. "It's bad enough when the rest of your family is there, but whenever she has you alone, she doesn't pull any punches. In the future, any time you feel the need to be around your mother, I want to be there, too. I think she now knows better than to tangle with me."

"You're right," Steph agreed. "She's afraid of you, you know."

I nodded. "And that's why we'll only face her when we're together, because we're a team, Wonder Woman. I won't have your mother aiming to shoot you down while you're flying. She'll have to go through me to get to you."

"And, as you've proved in the past few months, Superman, _you're_ bullet-proof," she quipped.

I laughed. "Damn skippy, Babe, and don't you forget it!"

_Stephanie's POV_

_Stephanie Mañoso… Stephanie Michelle Plum-Mañoso… Stephanie Michelle Mañoso… Stephanie Plum Mañoso… Mrs. Ricardo Carlos Mañoso, Jr…. Mrs. Carlos Mañoso… Mrs. Captain Mañoso… Mrs. Superman… Lois Lane… no, no, no… I'm Wonder Woman!_

Ack! I scribbled furiously, underlining and making exclamation points with sharp jabs at the pad of paper in front of me. I'd been writing different variations of my name for almost thirty minutes while we waited for my turn at the Social Security Office. I had decided to change my name, especially so that the legal paperwork would be easier to handle. Getting married for real entailed a whole lot of paperwork! Carlos had been texting messages back and forth to Diego, who was deep into the renovation project of the RangeMan headquarters building in Trenton.

Glancing over my shoulder, he pointed to the simple signature of 'Stephanie Plum Mañoso' and said, "I like that one."

I turned to gaze up at him and asked, "Why?"

He shrugged. "Well, that signature is you, plain and simple. But it also indicates that you're mine." And he kissed me. "Besides, you can still just use your first and middle names of 'Stephanie Plum' for your business dealings and you won't have to change your company's logo."

I grinned at him and said, "I like the way you think, Superman."

"No problem, Wonder Woman," he replied as he winked at me and my insides turned to goo. Too bad we were stuck in such a public place.

"Keep looking at me like that, Babe, and you're gonna melt these plastic chairs," he whispered in my ear. "Just hold on to those sexy thoughts of yours until we get back to the house." I grinned and a little jolt of excitement ran through me as I realized I affected him as much as he affected me.

Of course, when we got home I unleashed all those sexy thoughts upon him. And it was good! My badass husband was very, very good!

In the few weeks between the time we returned from our fabulous honeymoon and Tina's wedding, Carlos and I packed up and moved most of our furniture and assorted stuff into a storage facility in preparation for our move to North Carolina. After Tina and Lester's short honeymoon to the Santos' family beach house at Point Pleasant, NJ, they would be living in our townhouse so that it wouldn't sit vacant while we were gone. Tina was looking forward to house-hunting with Lester, but not before their baby arrived. This arrangement would give them plenty of time to find a place of their own until Carlos and I returned to Jersey.

Since both Lester and Tina had a lot of their own furniture already, Carlos convinced me it would be better to let them move their things, including Lester's huge brass bed, into our townhouse sooner rather than later. And since they would be using one of the guest rooms as a nursery when they had their baby, we stayed in the other guest room during that last week before their wedding. Carlos also convinced me to agree to rent furniture while we lived in the on-base housing at Fort Bragg.

During the weeks prior to our departure, Carlos took me to Fort Monmouth, NJ, several times to enroll me in a few essential military programs. One was for administrative purposes and another was for healthcare. Apparently, being a new Army wife entitled me to have access to all sorts of interesting programs and benefits, but I needed a special card to prove I now had such access. At one of the administrative offices, a nice young lady soldier took a photograph of me and produced an official military identification card for me. The soldier handed me the card and continued to type up the paperwork.

"Hey! I'm not your dependent," I protested to Carlos as I examined the grainy black-and-white image of me on my new ID card proclaiming me as Stephanie Plum Mañoso. "I make my own money. I'm not _dependent_ on anyone!"

Carlos just shook his head and said, "Don't get your panties in a twist, Babe. 'Dependent' is just what the military calls all non-military family members of a soldier's household. Now that you're officially a member of my household, the Army sees you as my dependent."

His cell phone vibrated and I could tell he needed to take the call. "Excuse me for a moment," he said. Then he stepped out of the cubicle and walked out of earshot.

I was still fuming when I noticed the young soldier studying me. Then she leaned in close to ask, "Pardon me, ma'am, but would you by any chance be associated with Books/Plum Designs, the makers of the _Babe_ line of, um, lingerie?" She quickly glanced around, making sure no one else could hear her.

Surprised, I replied quietly, "Yes. Yes, I am. How do you know about _Babe_?"

"Are you kidding? _Everybody_ knows about _Babe_ lingerie! I _thought_ I recognized you from the ads!" she gushed. Then she whispered, "My mother and I discovered them when they first came out and we _love_ the whole line. Everything is so comfortable, yet sexy. I made sure my husband 'discovered' them before Valentine's Day, which was awesome. For Mother's Day, I bought a nightgown for my mother and my husband bought me _another_ matching set of undies. In fact, I'm wearing a pair right now, and, boy, oh boy, do I feel like one hot mama!" And she grinned at me.

"Whoa! You're a mother already?" I asked before thinking. Honestly, the soldier didn't look a day older than nineteen. I quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect. It's just that you look so … so young."

She grinned and said, "Thanks. I get that a lot, but I'm actually twenty-four and I have _two_ children, both girls – a five-year old and a two-year-old. They're a handful, for sure. By the way, I'm Sergeant Anita Smith-Lee." And she thrust her hand forward in greeting.

"I'm Stephanie Plum, er, Mañoso. I just got married – obviously. Pleased to meet you, but please don't call me ma'am. I'm just Stephanie." I shook my head in bemused disbelief, even as I shook her outstretched hand. "And is your husband in the military, too?"

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded and pointed at a framed photograph on her desk. It was of her and her husband, both in uniform, and two very cute little girls. "Marcus and I enlisted in the Army right after we graduated from high school. The job market in our part of Michigan wasn't all that great – it still isn't, unfortunately – and neither of us had enough money for college right away, so we joined up. This assignment will be our last one before our enlistment contracts are finished, though, and then we'll be heading off to Rutgers for the fall semester. We just put in an offer on a house in New Brunswick and hope to be able to move in before our oldest daughter starts kindergarten."

"Congratulations!" I exclaimed. "I went to Rutgers and so did my husband. And one of his best friends just got out of the Army and moved to New Brunswick, too, with hopes of taking some graduate-level business courses in the upcoming year. I hope you'll have a good experience there."

"Thank you," she replied. "I know some of our classes might be difficult, especially since it's been a while since either of us has set foot in a civilian classroom, but we're really looking forward to a change of pace."

Then I asked, "Has it been difficult for you? You know, being a wife and a mother, as well as a soldier?"

She shrugged. "I suppose so, but compared to some of my friends in the Army, I've really had it pretty easy. My mom's been a widow since I was a little girl, so she came out to stay with us after I gave birth to my first daughter and she's been with us ever since. For a while, my husband and I were deployed to Iraq and Mom was our personal angel. When Marcus and I came home to see our baby girl, he left me with another little one planted inside me. That's the way it goes – there are lots of what we call "R&R babies" every nine months or so after soldiers get leave."

Again, I shook my head in disbelief. "That's amazing. Did you think you'd have kids while you were in the Army?" Now I knew I was just being nosy, but I couldn't help myself.

"No, ma'am," she replied and I scowled playfully at her. "I mean, Stephanie. But now that it's done, I'm really glad. The girls were both just babies during my two deployments and my husband's three deployments, so they don't really remember us being away from them. Now that they're older, though, they know when we're not around, so I'm grateful that part of our life is over. My girls get along great with each other, which is a big help for my mom. Marcus and I actually want more children, hopefully a boy or two, but not until after we get our college degrees."

Just then, Carlos poked his head into the office and asked, "Are you done yet, Babe?"

Sergeant Smith-Lee glanced from me to Carlos and then back to me again. "Oh. My. Gosh! No one's gonna believe I've actually been talking to _the_ Babe of _Babe_ lingerie!" she exclaimed. "Do you think you could spare a few moments to meet some of the other women who work here in this building?"

Carlos shrugged and I grinned at the excited sergeant as I agreed to meet some more soldiers.

After making the rounds to several of the office cubicles, I came away with a new appreciation for women in uniform. So many of them had deployed overseas and a few of them still had a certain haunted look in their eyes. I even met one lady soldier who had lost a foot in an explosion in Afghanistan, but she explained how her high-tech prosthetic foot was allowing her the opportunity to finish out the terms of her enlistment with honor and dignity.

"You know, I'm so glad your company ran that ad campaign with all those normal-looking women," Specialist Johnson told me. "Those ads inspired my husband to give me some new _Babe_ lingerie as a way of showing me he still found me to be desirable as a woman." She had to pause to blink away tears and clear her throat before she could continue. "I have a lot of scars from shrapnel wounds and after all my surgeries, I didn't think he or anyone else could find me attractive. Miss Plum, I truly believe _Babe_ helped saved my marriage. And I don't think I'm the only one in this building with these issues. We may have to wear this very _un_-sexy uniform every day, but what we wear under it can make the difference between feeling dumpy or feeling great about ourselves. Thank you." Then she grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down in a strong handshake.

I was speechless for a moment, and then I choked out, "I'm… I'm so glad the _Babe_ line is working for you. I promise to let everyone at my company know what you said. And thank _you_, all of you, for your service to our country."

Carlos nodded at the small group of women before he ushered me out of the building. As we drove back to Newark, an idea began to form in the back of my mind and I had a feeling Dawson would agree with me. I planned to run it by him prior to the next staff meeting so that we could announce a new campaign for Veteran's Day and start working on it as soon as possible. Carlos warned me that I would have to get permission from the various military public affairs offices, but he liked my idea, too.

When I went in to work the following morning, I told Tina how lucky she was that Lester had already finished his military obligations and was a free man. She could just live her life without having to move away and she could keep working at the office until it was time for her to deliver her baby. And she wouldn't be treated as a second-class citizen. I knew my ranting was irrational, but at least Tina wouldn't have to endure the indignity of being Lester's _dependent_.

"Jeez, Stevie, is it that time of the month or what?" Tina had asked.

Actually, it was. I scowled and said, "I guess that could be a contributing factor to my lousy mood, but honestly, Tina, I feel like this whole 'dependency' issue is a throwback to the 1950s or something. I'm my own woman, dammit!"

"Of course you are," Tina soothed. "And I'm sure Carlos knows that. It's not his fault the Army uses a bunch of old-fashioned terminology. But you're right; I am _very_ glad Lester is out of the military." Then, as usual these days, she switched topics. "Now, about the cake boxes…"

. . .

"Are you ready?" I asked Tina, who looked stunning – and not at all pregnant – in her poufy white wedding gown. I don't know how she was able to keep her condition a secret from her family, but she did it.

"Yes," answered her father, Salvatore Minardo. Then he blushed when he realized I was talking to Tina.

Seven of the eight bridesmaids had already proceeded down the aisle of the church where most of the extensive Minardo family regularly attended Mass. It wasn't nearly as large as the cathedral where Carlos and I were married, but I liked the warm intimacy of the chapel, especially with the afternoon sunlight highlighting all of the bright colors of the stained glass windows. Even more so than my wedding, Tina and Lester's wedding was quite the family affair. Although Carlos and Tank were Lester's Best Men and half of his groomsmen were his Army buddies, the rest were his brothers and a couple of Santos' cousins. Most of Tina's bridesmaids were her sisters and cousins, too. In fact, I was the only woman in the bridal party who wasn't related to Tina by blood.

I smiled warmly at my best friend and gave her an air kiss. Then I smoothed the deep pink fabric of my gown as I waited for the last bridesmaid to take her first step and I nodded at the Maid of Honor, Tina's favorite cousin on her mother's side, Angelina Scarpetti. Tina chose Angelina over her own sisters because she hadn't wanted to cause friction between her sisters, who were very competitive. Besides, her whole family knew that Tina and her cousin had been the best of friends throughout their childhood. I liked Angelina, especially since she'd been the one who organized the main bridal shower and kept me informed about all of their family members and guests who planned to attend the wedding.

Lester's father insisted on giving everyone in the wedding party beautiful pieces of jewelry as wedding accessories. And since Mr. Santos was the premiere jeweler within the Latino community, and I now owned several incredible pieces of his uniquely designed diamond jewelry, it was no real surprise to me that he could afford such generosity. The groomsmen all received classy rose gold cufflinks inlaid with diamonds, onyx and pink mother of pearl for their tuxedo shirts. Each bridal attendant received matching diamond, pink tourmaline and pearl necklaces and earrings, which looked perfect with our gowns. Tina was overwhelmed when she realized the true wealth of the family she was marrying into. Even so, I was relieved when my friend assured me she still wanted to work for me at Books/Plum Designs, no matter how much money Lester's family had.

All of the men in the wedding party wore black tuxedos with black shirts, pink vests and pink ties. Only Lester and his ring bearer wore white shirts. Also, Lester wore an incredible pair of fancy black and pink dress shoes. Although the shoes looked very good on Lester's feet, Carlos said he didn't want to know where his friend got such things.

Tina and Lester had the same type of nuptial Mass for their wedding as did Carlos and I, but their ceremony seemed to go on for much longer than mine. I know this wasn't true, even though it felt like it, and I'm sure it was because I could actually focus on everything that was happening. During my own ceremony, I could only think about Carlos, and before I knew it, we were married and on our way to the Caribbean. It was nice to savor each moment of Tina and Lester's ceremony, as well as the reception, which went long into the night.

The reception hall was decorated with black tablecloths and chair covers with deep pink tulle accents. Instead of a live band, there was a very talented DJ, who played every type of music imaginable. Lester had joked that he was going to request an old Paul Anka tune, "_Having My Baby_" as the song for their first dance, but he'd actually chosen an even older song, Frank Sinatra's "_The Way You Look Tonight_" for that honor.

_**The Way You Look Tonight**_

_Someday, when I'm awfully low  
>When the world is cold<br>I will feel a glow  
>Just thinking of you<br>And the way you look tonight_

_Yes, you're lovely_  
><em>With your smile so warm<em>  
><em>And your cheek so soft<em>  
><em>There is nothing for me<em>  
><em>But to love you<em>  
><em>And the way you look tonight<em>

_With each word your tenderness grows_  
><em>Tearing my fears apart<em>  
><em>And that laugh<em>  
><em>Wrinkles your nose<em>  
><em>Touches my foolish heart<em>

_Lovely_  
><em>Never, never change<em>  
><em>Keep that breathless charm<em>  
><em>Won't you please arrange it<em>  
><em>'Cause I love you<em>  
><em>Just the way you look tonight<em>

_And that laugh  
>That wrinkles your nose<br>It touches my foolish heart_

_Lovely_  
><em>Don't you ever change<em>  
><em>Keep that breathless charm<em>  
><em>Won't you please arrange it<em>  
><em>'Cause I love you<em>  
><em>Just the way you look tonight<em>

_Hmm mm, hmm mm  
>Just the way you look tonight...<em>

Tina looked radiant as Lester guided her around the dance floor. Many of their older relatives nodded their approval of the groom's choice of songs. Later in the evening, Carlo requested the song again and we danced to it. My husband surprised me by softly singing along with the classic Sinatra tune. It was so romantic!

Other than a few more "oldies but goodies" that the elder Santos and Minardo family members requested, the dance floor reverberated with the sounds of salsa, reggaeton, electronica and bachata music. Clown that he was, Lester enjoyed getting everyone out onto the dance floor to do the Chicken Dance, the Electric Slide and a variety of Latin line dances that gave us all a very good aerobic workout.

Unlike Carlos' and my wedding, Lester and Tina did _not_ behave during the cutting of the cake. First, Lester cut a huge slice of the pretty white and pink multi-tiered cake and tried to feed it to Tina, who shook her head in refusal. Of course, when she did that, some icing inadvertently got on her nose. Then she swiped a glob of icing and smeared it on Lester's nose. I was sure things were about to go downhill from there, but Lester surprised everyone by setting down the cake, taking Tina into his arms and dipping her backward for a long kiss, during which he sensuously licked the icing off of Tina's nose and she returned the favor. I thought some of the older ladies were going to faint, but I was taking mental notes.

Carlos leaned in close to me and murmured, "I can smell the smoke from the gears in your head turning fast, Babe. And the answer is 'yes, I think that looks like fun.' But maybe we'll do it with whipped cream instead of icing. I prefer the, ah, control and flexibility of the spray can."

I got hot just thinking about all the possibilities.

When it was time for the bouquet toss, Tina made sure that her cousin Angelina caught it. Lester used his teeth to drag Tina's pink camouflage and lace garter all the way from the top of her thigh down to her ankle. Then he made sure Angelina's long-time boyfriend, Tony, caught the garter. Tina's entire family saw this as an act of good faith on Lester's part and it cemented their high regard for him. They also saw it as a great opportunity to harass Tony, who was supposedly very close to popping the question to Angelina anyway.

Despite all the pink accessories, the groomsmen had a good time, too. At first, Tank had declared he "wouldn't wear pink, no way, no how," but Tina turned on her charm, as well as her tear ducts, and our giant friend melted. Wearing the pink vest and tie won him big points with Keira, though, and she told him how much she admired his manly confidence. It also helped that Tank was now employed by Carlos and not Uncle Sam. Sadly, Bobby hadn't been very consistent with his calls to Miranda, so even though she agreed to be his date for the wedding, no one could call them a dating couple. As a favor to Tina, and her many unattached sisters and cousins, Antonio, Diego, Javier and Miguel didn't bring dates. They had almost as much fun as Carlos and I did.

Later on, toward the end of the night, the DJ did play Lester's other song. Tina looked mortified for a moment, but no one seemed to realize the significance of the song, especially after so many champagne toasts. Of course, I thought the words suited Tina and Lester's situation perfectly.

_**Having My Baby**_

_Having my baby,_  
><em>What a lovely way of saying how much you love me,<em>  
><em>Having my baby,<em>  
><em>What a lovely way of saying what you're thinking of me<em>

_I can see it, your face is glowing,_  
><em>I can see it in your eyes, I'm happy you know it<em>

_That you're having my baby,_  
><em>You're the woman I love, and I love what it's doing to you,<em>  
><em>Having my baby,<em>  
><em>You're a woman in love and I love what's going through you,<em>

_The need inside you, I see it showing,_  
><em>Oh the seed inside you,<em>  
><em>Baby, do you feel it growing,<em>  
><em>Are you happy you know it?<em>

_That you're having my Baby,_  
><em>I'm a woman in love, and I love what it's doing to me,<em>  
><em>Having My Baby,<em>  
><em>I'm a woman in love and I love what's going through me,<em>

_Didn't have to keep it, wouldn't put you through it,_  
><em>You could have swept it from your life,<em>  
><em>but you wouldn't do it, no you wouldn't do it.<em>

_And you're having my baby,_  
><em>I'm a woman in love, and I love what it's doing to me,<em>  
><em>Having My Baby.<em>  
><em>I'm a woman in love, and I love what's going through me,<em>

_Having My Baby (Having My Baby)_  
><em>What a lovely way of saying how much you love me,<em>

_Having My Baby,_  
><em>I'm a woman in love and I love what it's going through me,<em>  
><em>Having My Baby<em>

By the time Lester and Tina drove away toward the Jersey shore for their low-key honeymoon at Point Pleasant, I was completely exhausted. Carlos took me home and dragged me into the shower with him after we shed our sweaty clothes. That perked me up quite a bit and we made love until the water began to feel lukewarm. Then we dried each other off and fell into bed. I smiled as I drifted into a deep sleep, happy for our newlywed friends. Yes, great things were happening all around us and even more was yet to come. I could hardly wait to get to Fort Bragg!

**TBC**


	62. Chapter 62 Chapter 146

**CHAPTER 146**

_Stephanie's POV_

I was a hot mess! The outside temperatures had been in the upper 90s and lower 100s (degrees Fahrenheit) all week long and the humidity was through the roof. Despite the whirring of the ceiling fan, my utilitarian home office in our military quarters at Fort Bragg, North Carolina felt like an oven. The heat, combined with the constant buzz of summer cicadas, had lulled me into a stupor.

"Stephanie. _Stephanie_!" I heard a disembodied voice break through my hazy thoughts. Opening my eyes, I saw Dawson's face grinning at me on my computer screen.

After shaking myself to wake up, I quickly apologized. "Oh, Dawson, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to drift off like that."

"Don't worry about it, my dear," he waved his hand dismissively. "You're rather cute when you're trying to stay awake. At one point, though, I thought you'd actually hurt yourself if you leaned back any further in your chair."

"Ugh! It's just so friggin' hot down here," I complained. "I could kick myself for wanting to come to North Carolina during the summer. Why didn't anybody warn me about the heat in the South? Jeez!"

As if in agreement with me, Blackie lifted his ears and whimpered. He liked to stay with me while I worked, so I kept a spare doggy bed and a water bowl in my office for him. After a nice long drink of cool water, Blackie returned to his bed, turned around a few times, then flopped down and went back to sleep. Smart dog.

Dawson chuckled. "Autumn is just around the corner. If it's any consolation, our temperatures up here have been in the 90s all week. I've kept the air conditioning on full blast. At this rate, our energy bill is going to be beastly at the end of the month."

"Hmph!" I scoffed. "At least _you're_ actually in charge of how much energy the company uses. Here, we lowly occupants of on-base housing are not allowed to let the air conditioner run all day long, due to some policy or another. It's just crazy! I've set our thermostat as low as I possibly dared to and the ceiling fans are turned up to their maximum speed, but I'm still sweating buckets. I swear; I've never felt heat like this. I don't know how the Southerners can stand it!"

"Ah, well," Dawson sounded sympathetic. "Enough is enough; it's time to call it quits for the day. Besides, this is the third time we've Skyped today and I really should get moving. Rosa and I have plans to go out to dinner tonight with Ricardo and Teresa. Apparently, your father-in-law has decided to check out his competition, one restaurant at a time. I believe we're dining at a tapas bar, of all places."

"Sounds interesting," I said as a big yawn and stretch took over. "Please give them my love. And tell them I can hardly wait to be back home in Jersey. Right now, I'd give anything to be able to drive over to Point Pleasant and stick my toes in the ocean."

Dawson laughed. "Please give Carlos a hug from all of us as well. We'll see you next month at the Medal of Honor ceremony. You know, Rosa is beside herself with excitement over getting to meet the President and First Lady. So are Ricardo and Teresa and everyone else whom you've invited."

"Ugh!" I wiped the sweat dripping down my forehead. "I would say I'm just feeling nervous, but I'm too hot to feel anything right now."

"Why don't you go run through a sprinkler or something to cool yourself down a bit?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Can't. All of Fort Bragg is under extreme water conservation measures due to the drought down here. We're not allowed to wash our cars in the driveway or do excessive loads of laundry or even water the poor, dying grass – thus, no sprinklers. It's crazy. Living on a military installation is a lot more restrictive than I realized it would be. But like the slogan says, 'Freedom isn't free.' I now have a much better understanding of what that really means."

My business partner offered condolences for my predicament and then signed off. Carlos and I had moved into the fairly new, two-story duplex housing unit almost two months ago. Actually, it was pretty nice. Our cheerful yellow quarters had a one-car garage, in which we parked my car. Carlos usually parked his car in the driveway since he left very early in the morning and returned long after I finished running errands each day. The interior space held an open floor plan of a living room, dining room and kitchen on the first floor and three bedrooms upstairs. The master bedroom and bathroom were somewhat larger than the other rooms, but we could only fit a queen-sized bed in our room, which was rather cozy. We used one of the other bedrooms as my office, and the other as a small guest room when needed.

Our next-door neighbors were very nice, too. Army Captain Victor Belmont was a helicopter pilot, and his wife, Amy, was a fifth grade teacher at one of the elementary schools on the military base. They had the cutest little eighteen-month-old boy, Matthew, who loved to play with Blackie in our backyard when Amy brought him home after a long day at the Child Development Center, or daycare center, as I called it. Vic was from a military family – both he and his older sister, as well as his father, grandfather and two uncles had all graduated from the United States Military Academy at West Point, NY. Amy's family was from Nashville, TN, which was close to Vic's first duty assignment at Fort Campbell, KY. I loved listening to their Southern accents and Amy said they loved to listen to my Jersey accent. Before I got to know them and our other neighbors, I hadn't known I'd had much of an accent. Go figure!

During a regular week, I made myself stay in my office for six to eight hours every day to do my work, but it was lonely, even with Blackie sitting at my feet. I was finally getting used to my daily Skype sessions with Dawson and the rest of the staff at Books/Plum Designs. Still, there were days when I felt so homesick after our Internet meetings were over, all I could do was something silly and mindless for a while to distract myself. On this sweltering day I began to doodle and sketch some fanciful designs for lingerie that would most likely never come into existence.

I don't know how long I'd been sitting at my desk, sketching away to my heart's desire, when Carlos walked into the room.

"Oh!" I exclaimed with a start as he placed his warm hands on my shoulders. Blackie didn't even twitch.

"You're looking kinda scary there, Babe," Carlos said and he leaned in to nuzzle my neck. Then he scooped up a handful of my damp curly hair and kissed my bare neck. His lips felt cool against my skin and I sighed happily.

"I like that one right there," he said, pointing at one of my silliest lingerie design doodles.

I gazed up at him and asked, "Why?"

He shrugged. "Well, that tiny scrap of lace and satin right there is sexy as hell. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last ten seconds. I can just imagine myself ripping it off of you with one quick pull."

"Hmm," I pretended to consider the implications of producing such a short-lived item. "Then you'd have to buy me another one. _Hmmmm_. My company could make oodles of money just in replacement costs alone."

His laugh sounded wicked before he captured my lips with his for a nice long kiss.

"Omigod!" I gasped into his mouth as I noticed the time on my wall clock. "I just realized you're home early!"

A wolfish grin spread across his face and he said, "Ah, you noticed."

"But I haven't fixed anything for dinner!" I wailed. "And I look a mess – 'scary' you said. I need to take a shower and change and I have to figure out what to defrost and I need to…"

"Relax, Babe," Carlos soothed. "You need to _relax_. I told you before; I don't expect you to be the stereotypical 'little missus' around here. This isn't the 'Burg. We are _not_ our parents. You've got more than enough of your own work to do every day without having to worry about feeding me a five-course meal every night. I don't even want that, and I never will. We've got plenty of stuff in the fridge, which we need to eat before the end of the month, anyway. I don't want anything to spoil while we're in Washington. I'll just make us a salad and then we'll go."

"Go?" I asked warily. "Go where?" _Uh-oh. What had I forgotten?_

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "There's the September Family Readiness Group meeting back at the unit headquarters tonight. Remember? That's why I'm home early. We ended classes ahead of schedule today so everyone could get cleaned up and bring their wives back for tonight's meeting."

"Oh yeah," I murmured with dawning horror. "That's right. We have a meeting to attend tonight." I wasn't sure I was ready for this yet.

_This_ would be the meeting where I would meet the wives of the men Carlos worked with every day as an instructor in the Special Forces Qualification Course, or "Q-Course" as it was called. As part of his "no more overseas assignments" agreement with Colonel Striker, Carlos was assigned to the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School (JFKSWCS) for the final eighteen months of his active-duty time in the Army. Apparently, with the timing of our arrival in late July, we had just missed the previous meeting, which the unit held every other month.

The week after we arrived, Carlos took me out to Camp Mackall, where he actually worked most days of the week. I was proud to walk next to him in his camouflage-patterned uniform, with his green beret perched jauntily on his head. Now that he was working with "regular" soldiers, Carlos wore his hair very short in a style referred to as "high and tight" and he no longer sported any facial hair. My Army Ranger husband showed me the various weapons firing ranges and obstacle courses where soldiers who wanted to be admitted into the Special Forces trained under his and his staff's watchful eyes. Carlos also took me out to the sandy parachute landing zones where I watched him and lots of other soldiers jump out of perfectly good airplanes and helicopters over and over again. It looked like so much fun!

"C'mon, Babe," Carlos growled sexily near my ear. "Let's go take a shower together and conserve lots of water. Remember, it's our patriotic duty."

I chuckled. This had become a running joke with us; there were always various conservation campaigns going on across the military base. When we first moved into our quarters, there were posters and billboards urging everyone to do their part to conserve water due to ongoing drought conditions throughout the South. Taking showers together had become our main contribution to the effort, even though I doubted we saved much water, especially since a shower with Carlos was rarely _just_ a shower. This month's base-wide campaign was about conserving electricity, but we still joked about water conservation.

After a refreshingly lukewarm shower, during which Carlos and I generated more than enough heat of our own, we got dressed and drove to the unit headquarters building. The atmosphere was supposed to be casual, so Carlos was wearing his "civvies" – civilian clothes. He liked to wear black and it looked good on him. I, of course, provided the splashes of color for us. It was so hot outside; I wore a lightweight jersey knit tank dress with a small floral print, and sandals.

As a sort of research project, Tina and I had watched the DVDs of every episode of the TV show "Army Wives" before I left New Jersey, so I felt somewhat prepared for my life as "Mrs. Captain Mañoso." Or so I thought. Once I got settled in to my new home-away-from-home, as they called it, I realized there was far less drama here than on the show. One thing the TV show certainly got right, though, was the gossip. The military base neighborhoods were a lot like the 'Burg in that everybody seemed to know everybody else's business. Every day, it seemed Amy had some new tidbit of information to tell me.

Like my neighbors, the women and men I met at Carlos' headquarters that night seemed much more normal than I had expected. The unit chaplain spoke about the mental, marital and family counseling services that were available through his office, especially for the soldiers who had recently returned from duty in one of the war zones. It was good information and everyone seemed to genuinely appreciate the chaplain's efforts. Afterward, we all socialized and ate the cookies and other desserts that some of the wives had brought. Everyone was very friendly and curious, but in a nice way.

Eventually, all of the women wanted to know if I was really "the Babe" of _Babe_ lingerie, and there were several questions about Carlos' upcoming Medal of Honor ceremony as well. I tried my best to come across to them as genuine and humble, but it was difficult. Carlos and I both had a lot to be proud of and I had enough business savvy to understand that all of these women were either current or potential customers. Although I wanted to tell the other wives about my company's upcoming Veteran's Day campaign, I still didn't have the go-ahead from all of the branches of service. With Carlos' help, though, I was pretty sure we'd be able to send out the advertisements in time to be published in the November issues of our favorite magazines. We would be offering free _Babe_ undies to any woman who was serving or had served in any of the U.S. military branches.

When we got home from the meeting and slipped into bed, Carlos commended me on the way I handled all of the questions and obvious nosiness of the wives.

"Proud of you, Babe," he said, as he held me close.

I kissed him and said, "I'm proud of you too, Superman. Now all I have to do is make it through the Medal of Honor ceremony without embarrassing myself – or you or the Army – and then I can just relax and enjoy the rest of our time here. Oh, yeah, and we have to get the Navy to acknowledge the _Babe_ Veteran's Day campaign, too."

"Don't worry; it'll all come together," he assured me. "Let's just enjoy this night."

His lips were traveling down my body before I had a chance to continue our conversation and then I forgot whatever else I was going to say, anyway. The distraction was, obviously, quite enjoyable.

_Carlos' POV_

The morning of the Medal of Honor ceremony at the White House was a beautiful, early October day in Washington, D.C., and although none of the leaves on the trees had changed colors yet, our nation's capital looked gorgeous. Unfortunately, Stephanie was so nervous about the possibility of making a fool of herself in front of the President and First Lady, she didn't realize the personal significance of this day. I wasn't worried, especially because I had made great plans for this evening after all of the official crap was over. Nothing was going to spoil our one-year anniversary.

Yes, today was October 3rd, one year to the day since Stephanie and I had run into each other at the Newark Hilton. So much had happened over the course of this action-packed year. Although the President had signed the authorization for my medal back in September, his schedule wasn't free until today, so here we were. I could hardly believe it when Colonel Striker called to tell me the actual date of the Medal of Honor ceremony. I had originally made plans for a long weekend at one of North Carolina's Outer Banks bed and breakfast establishments, but I changed my reservations so that Stephanie and I would stay at the nicest hotel in Washington, D.C. instead.

Because of limited space and access, we had been extremely careful about who we invited to accompany us to the White House. Of course, I included my parents and grandparents, my siblings and their spouses, Mateo and Lucia, my Tía Carmen, and several of the military men with whom I had served over the course of my career, including Tank, Santos, Brown and several others. That only left a handful of spaces for the people Stephanie wanted to invite, which included Frank, Edna, Wilbur and Valerie and her girls. Unfortunately, not everyone seemed to realize who was and who was _not_ invited.

The problem, of course, was Ellen Plum.

I'd had a long discussion with Joe Juniak, who really was a saint in my book. He was standing by and supporting Ellen through her divorce and all the mental counseling she was receiving. It was obvious the man loved her, but his involvement wasn't enough to keep her under control at such an important event in my life. I knew I could depend on every one of my family and friends to behave with the proper decorum required at the White House, but I had no such guarantee with Ellen Mazur Plum. Even though we knew it would probably cause more issues in the future, Stephanie and I decided not to invite her mother; she just wasn't stable enough at this time. Thankfully, Juniak agreed with us.

And so, on the day of the Medal of Honor ceremony, I was surrounded by the people I cared about the most. People who loved and respected me, and whom I loved and respected in return. Approximately ninety minutes prior to the ceremony, we all arrived at the White House, where the guards and Secret Service Agents checked everyone's identification and authorization. Everything went smoothly and we were happy to receive a short tour of the historic building while we waited. Thirty minutes prior to the ceremony, one of the agents pulled me aside and said there was a problem.

"Please come with me, sir," the agent murmured.

I excused myself from my guests and left my Babe in the very good care of her father and my Tía Carmen, who had become quite close. Then I followed the agent to a vestibule at the end of a long hallway. I heard what the problem was immediately.

"But I'm _sure_ I'm supposed to be at the Medal of Honor ceremony!" a whiny voice insisted. And I knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

As soon as I saw her, the agent turned to me and asked, "Captain Mañoso, do you recognize this person?"

Inwardly sighing, I replied, "Yes, yes I do. Hello, Ellen."

Ellen turned sharply and glared at me for a moment before she realized it was in her best interest to be nice to me. "Carlos! I'm _so_ glad to see you! There's been some sort of mistake. These people here insist that my name isn't on the guest list for your ceremony. And I _know_ that's not right."

I exchanged a quick glance with the security team and led my angry mother-in-law a few steps away from their desk. "Ellen, did you come down here on your own?"

"Yes, I took the train," she replied with a sniff. "It's not that anyone in my family would have concerned themselves with my well-being. No one, not even Valerie, offered to let me ride down here with them. JJ told me not to come, but he had a meeting, so I caught the train and I made it here and now these people are saying my name isn't on the list. Please, tell them who I am!"

"I'm sorry, Ellen, but they're correct," I said. "Your name _isn't_ on the guest list."

"Wh-wh-what do you mean?" Ellen sputtered.

"I didn't include you on the list, Ellen," I admitted.

Her surprised expression dissolved into a scowl and then she demanded, "What kind of sick joke is this? Where is Stephanie? _She'll_ get me in."

I shook my head, wanting to be respectful of my mother-in-law, but also very clear where things stood. "No, it's not a joke. And, no, Stephanie can't get you in here. You weren't invited, therefore, the Secret Service hasn't cleared you. I'm sorry, Ellen, but you've wasted your time. The good news is that if you leave now, you can be back in New Jersey well before dinner time."

She gasped. "I can't believe you're doing this! How could you?" The look she shot me was the epitome of the saying "if looks could kill." I'd received worse.

"Here's how," I scoffed. "According to you, and I quote, Stephanie is 'an embarrassment of a daughter' and I am 'a terrible influence' on her, even though my 'family seems to be very nice.' Tell me, Ellen, why would I want to invite someone who so obviously holds such a low opinion of my wife and me to attend one of the most important events in my life?"

She was speechless for a moment and then she said, "Despite what you may think, I _love_ Stephanie. She's my baby and I should be there for her at this important event in her life."

"Yes, you should," I agreed. "But this is actually an important event in _my_ life. While Stephanie's steadfast love and her unfailing faith in me kept me going during some of the darkest days of my life, _you_ had nothing whatsoever to do with my success. And despite what _you_ may think, you really _haven't_ been there for Stephanie. And you're not going to be there today. In fact, until you show my wife the kind of love and _respect_ she deserves, you'll just have to love her from afar. Have a safe trip back to Trenton, Ellen. I'll call Juniak and let him know you're on your way back now." Then I indicated to the guard that Ellen should be escorted out of the building and I returned to the ceremony room without a backward glance.

"What's going on?" Stephanie asked me as soon as I was standing next to her again.

I grinned at her and said, "We'll talk about it later. I think it's time for everyone to take their places now. Are you ready?"

She nodded and whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Carlos. And this is so… so exciting!"

And it was.

"…_This is to certify that the President of the United States of America authorized by Act of Congress March 3, 1863 has awarded in the name of Congress the Medal of Honor to Captain Ricardo Carlos Mañoso for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty in action with the enemy during Operation Eagle's Talon, Iraq 2008 – 2009. Given under my hand in the City of Washington this Sixteenth day of September 2009. Signed, Barack Obama, President of the United States."_

As the ceremony went on, I found it more and more difficult to hold in my emotions. It was a strange feeling, listening to the Adjutant reading the award certificate and then listing my combat zone accomplishments, even without revealing the real details. Earlier, Colonel Striker told me that Delta Force was sad to lose me, but he was glad I was receiving such public recognition. Usually, our clandestine operations went unacknowledged, as though they had never happened, but today was a great day indeed. I felt extremely proud to be an American and I knew my family and friends felt the same way. My eyes were shiny, but I did not let a single tear fall.

Afterward, there was a formal receiving line, where everyone filed by and congratulated me. Stephanie stood proudly by my side and the smile on her face was bright enough to light up the entire room. I don't think my parents could have been any prouder of me, either. Both my mother and my father had tears in their eyes as they shook my hands and then hugged me. Abuela Rosa hugged me so tightly, I thought my medals and uniform buttons would leave a mark on her delicate skin. Oddly, part of me still felt embarrassed by the whole thing, but mostly, I tried to keep in mind the lives I'd helped save. It was great to see CIA Agent Curt Morgan, and the cryptographers Justin Hawkins and Robert Bell, as well as FBI agents Silvio Jimenez and Lars Larsen in the crowd, too.

During the reception, the President and First Lady, as well as the Vice President and his wife, chatted amicably with Stephanie and me. Both Mrs. Obama and Dr. Biden quietly admitted to owning _Babe_ lingerie, which was a delightful shock to Steph. When Stephanie told them about her upcoming Veteran's Day campaign, they agreed that it was a marvelous idea and pledged their support. Dr. Biden even told Steph about the many wonderful service women and military wives she had met while her son was deployed overseas and after she had guest-starred on the TV show, _Army Wives_. It was surreal listening to the ladies talk about, well, lady things.

Later, when we returned to our hotel room, I told Stephanie how proud I was to be her husband. She truly had impressed the "big brass" at today's ceremony and I knew they could hardly wait to see what she'd come up with next. She told me again how proud she was of me and kissed me until my mind nearly short-circuited. I thought I might be in the clear, until Steph asked about the incident just before the ceremony began.

I sighed and said, "Your mother came to town. For some reason, she believed she'd be able to attend the ceremony."

"Oh no!" Stephanie groaned. "I _knew_ I should have told her she wasn't invited. I just thought she'd figure it out, since she didn't receive one of the printed invitations. She must have seen Valerie's or something."

"Not to worry, Babe," I said. "I took care of it. I'm sure your mother now understands exactly where she stands with us. And, in case you had any doubts, that's on the outside looking in."

Stephanie's continued groaning sounded way too remorseful for my liking.

"Steph, don't let your mother get to you again," I said as I pulled her in for a comforting hug. "I sure won't."

"I know you're right, Carlos," she said and she snuggled in closer to me. "I'll try harder. It's just that, well, she's my mother."

I kissed the top of her head and said, "Yes, but until she starts to act like a _loving_ mother, she has no place in our lives. It's too much bother and I won't invite such stress into our home. Now, enough about that… let's talk about what today is."

"Today?" she asked, looking puzzled. 'What do you mean by…" and her words trailed off as she realized what I was talking about. "Omigod! Carlos, I forgot! Oh, God, how could I forget such an important date?" Her voice was filled with anguish now.

I pulled her close against me again and shushed her. "Babe, it's fine. Everything is fine. Look around you. We're in the best hotel our nation's capital has to offer. We've had a fantastic day of ceremonies and meeting the leaders of the free world and you found out that their wives are devoted fans of your lingerie. Blackie is off having a good time with your father for the weekend as he spends time touring all of the monuments on the Mall. And now we're going to have a fabulous meal and spend the evening celebrating our love. I've got it all covered and it's going to be good."

Then I reached into the nightstand drawer, pulled out a familiar velvet box, and handed it to her. When she opened it, she found another charm for her bracelet. This one was a tiny calendar of October, with four gemstones marking the four days we spent together. I gently attached it to her bracelet and she held up her arm to admire it.

Tears shone in Stephanie's bright blue eyes as her eyes met mine and she sniffled, "Oh, Carlos, I don't have anything for you!"

I reached back into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the box of condoms I had placed there earlier. Then I grinned as I shook the box in front of her.

"Oh, I think I can come up with something as compensation. Remember these?" I asked. They were the exact same brand we'd used for our very first round of "Anything Goes."

The wicked smile on my Babe's face heated my blood faster than ever before and we kissed for what seemed like only a minute, but I'm sure it was longer. Just when we were half-undressed, though, room service arrived with our covered trays of delicious food. I wisely decided we needed to feed the "Beast" before we got into our fun and games for the evening. But we didn't take our time with the meal. We both knew we wanted to get to the real anniversary action as quickly as possible.

And it was very, very good.

Later, when I was wrapped around my wife's relaxed body, taking a little break, I murmured in Steph's ear, "So, what do you want to do for your birthday?"

"My birthday?" Steph turned in my arms and gazed into my eyes.

"Yes," I grinned back at her. "In case you've forgotten, it's in less than two weeks from today. What would you like to do?"

There was a twinkle in her eye as she replied, "I want to fly again!"

"Fly again?" I said, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Sporting a huge grin she said, "I want to jump out of an airplane, just the way you do."

I laughed aloud and said, "You never fail to amaze me. I'm sure I can arrange for some skydiving lessons. But for now, let's do some more horizontal flying. We've still got seven condoms left." And I rattled the box that was sitting on the nightstand.

Then I rolled over on top of my wife, pressing her down onto our hotel room's soft king-sized bed and we flew long into the night. Later, as we lay spooned together in the pre-dawn light, I thought about how lucky I was. The rest of the world might see me as a hero now, but I was already a hero to the only person who ever mattered to me.

I was grateful for the night that never happened one incredible year ago and I was looking forward to all the nights that _would_ happen in the days and years to come.

_AN: We thank all our readers who have stayed with this story from the very beginning, and a special thanks to those who shared their reviews and comments along the way. We hope we did Jude's memory proud and that you enjoyed the entire story from beginning to end. This is the end of our story, but only the beginning of Carlos and Stephanie's happily ever after. And don't despair, there will be an Epilogue giving a glimpse of our favorite couple's life well into the future. _


	63. Chapter 63 Epilogue: Part 1

**EPILOGUE: Part 1**

**Point Pleasant, One year later: Sunday, June 6, 2010**

_Carlos' POV_

I leaned against the veranda railing, a mug of hot coffee in my hands, and looked out across the water as the sun seemingly lifted out of the depths of the ocean. I couldn't keep from having a huge smile split my face as I watched my wife of one year laughing and playing with our dogs, Blackie and Bella. Bella Blanca, a spunky West Highland Terrier, was a new addition to our family and she came with her own surprise. Stephanie was dodging the waves and the dogs were jumping into them, enjoying the cool water and the churning action of the waves rolling onto the beach.

I let my mind drift and it flashed back to late March, a little over two months ago, when I'd found the little white dog on my morning run. Some _son of a bitch_ – I grimaced at the absurdity of the expletive – had duct-taped the legs of the little dog together so that it couldn't walk and then left it to die in the woods. It was pure luck that I had stumbled upon the nearly dead dog. After I cut the tape off and brought her home, Steph and I nursed the grateful dog back to health. We named her Bella Blanca, beautiful white one. She and Blackie were now inseparable.

Santos had offered his family's beach house to us to hold our first wedding anniversary celebration, so Steph and I, along with the dogs, had arrived in Point Pleasant Friday afternoon from North Carolina. Our hosts had driven in early Friday morning and opened up the place and stocked it with tons of fresh food and drink for the upcoming party. The rest of our close friends began trickling in Saturday morning, excited to spend a weekend at the beach. More of our family would drive over to spend Sunday with us.

For months, my wife and I had debated how to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. Since we'd spent most of the last year away from family and friends, it made it an easy choice to want to spend this special time closer to our loved ones. So the Santos beach house in Point Pleasant was a perfect location, making it an easy one-hour drive for everyone to join us and celebrate.

Although Santos and Tina had used the beach house for their honeymoon last July, this was their first "family' vacation with their six-month old baby. It was only the second time we had seen our little godson, Rafael Carlos, already nicknamed Rafe after his grandfather. The first time had been when we returned home to New Jersey for the Christmas holidays just a few days after Tina had given birth. We had stayed in the guest room of our townhouse for two weeks until after the baby's baptism. It was a little odd to stay in our own house again while Santos and Tina were the primary occupants, especially because their personal belongings held a different feel. When I had joked about coming home and still not being able to sleep in my king-sized bed, our friends were quick to assure us that they were actively searching for a house of their own and they had every intention of clearing out their stuff by the time my obligations to the Army were finished next December.

During our two-week stay, we spent Christmas Day with the large Mañoso clan in Newark. Frank Plum joined us for that enjoyable family dinner. He had been looking forward to spending time not only with his younger daughter and her in-laws, but also with his new lady friend – and my favorite aunt – Carmen Herrera.

I'd heard from Mateo that Frank and Tía Carmen had been seeing each other regularly since their introduction at our wedding. My cousin thought they were a good match for each other and he said he knew they were enjoying spending time together, even doing the simple things like making dinner or doing home repairs. Although the lovebirds still maintained their own places, Frank was discreetly spending more and more time at Tía Carmen's home. As a widow with a grown son, my aunt had lived alone for many years and was very independent. Even though Mat didn't think his mother was quite ready for the next step with Steph's father, he was happy to report that she had sported a perpetual smile since her first dance with Frank at our wedding reception. And from our frequent phone conversations with Frank, we knew that after living such a stoic, introverted life with Ellen, he was thrilled to have someone laugh at his jokes and challenge him to step out of his shell and step back into living. It was nice to see Frank getting his own turn at a little happiness.

The day after Christmas, we celebrated Boxing Day at our townhouse with the Plum side of the family. This time, Valerie and her fiancé Alberto joined her two girls for the festivities. Frank arrived with Tía Carmen, and Edna brought Wilbur with her. Santos and Tina and their baby also joined in on all the fun. It had been like having two Christmas celebrations back-to-back and Stephanie's nieces had loved it, remembering how much fun they'd had last year. I was glad to be here for the second annual Bel Aire Boxing Day festivities.

It had been good to see that Edna and Wilbur were still going strong in spite of Wilbur's heart attack just before Thanksgiving. Val and Alberto were planning a small wedding for spring break, when the girls would have some time off from school. Alberto owned his own home and he and Valerie were remodeling it to accommodate their growing family. Yes, much to Steph's amusement and Ellen Plum's dismay, Valerie was pregnant.

Of course, the one noticeable absentee from all of our events had been Ellen Plum. Stephanie's mother had declined to attend the Boxing Day festivities just as Stephanie and I had declined to spend Christmas Day at Joe Juniak's house. Amazingly, the last time my Babe had actually seen her mother was a year ago, on our wedding day, but they had spoken on the phone a few weeks after our honeymoon. It hadn't gone well and, seeing how miserable my wife was, I persuaded Steph to give her mother more time before calling again and never to see her mother without me being present. The fiasco during the Medal of Honor ceremony had cemented Steph's resolve to limit contact with her mother. It was a relief when Steph took my advice to heart and decided to wait until her mother reached out to her in a healthy way.

During our Boxing Day dinner, Valerie, who had taken her daughters and her fiancé, Alberto Guarino, to the Juniaks' Christmas dinner, filled Stephanie in on the juicy details. Val told her sister that despite their mother's craziness, she really liked JJ and his family and so did Angie and Mary Alice. She thought he was a very nice man and it was obvious he had a good relationship with his own children and grandchildren, all of whom were male. No wonder Juniak eagerly welcomed Ellen and all of her girls into his life.

Val said their mother seemed very happy with JJ, though Ellen still insisted they were "just friends." The Burg grapevine was filled with salacious rumors about them, but Ellen kept denying any impropriety. In a fit of giggles, Valerie confided to Steph that when she went to track down Mary Alice during the Christmas festivities at the Juniaks, she found her hiding in the shower stall of Joe's bathroom. A quick glance around the bathroom revealed two toothbrushes and half-empty bottles of Ellen's favorite shampoo, moisturizer and perfume. Val couldn't help but joke that maybe their mother meant JJ was a "friend with benefits." Val reported that Ellen was doing much better at tamping down her fixation on both of her daughters' marriages. Since Joe Juniak had welcomed Alberto with open arms, Val said Ellen had become more tolerant of Val's engagement to the computer technician. Valerie also said that their mother was still seeing a counselor, though she thought her mother just liked having someone to talk to who _had_ to listen to her ramblings on a regular basis.

Saturday at Point Pleasant had dawned sunny and bright and got even brighter when Tank and Keira arrived. The two "anti-lovebirds" had been dating off and on for the past year. They frequently fought like cats and dogs and then would vow never to see each other again, but after a cooling off period, they always got back together. When Tank was discharged from the Army, one of the first things he did was stop by the pound and adopt a cat. I laughed my ass off when he told me he'd named her Snowball. Unfortunately, Snowball did not get along with Keira's two cats, Kid and Play. Neither Tank nor Keira had any interest in seeing other people, but their tempestuous relationship kept them from taking the next logical step in their relationship. Stephanie was convinced they were both commitment-phobic, but that love would eventually conquer all. This weekend, they were all lovey-dovey and making googly eyes at each other, so it was obviously an "on-weekend" for them.

Right after Tank and Keira arrived, Bobby Brown showed up with Miranda Montgomery. The two had dated off and on since the wedding, but they weren't exclusive. You wouldn't know it though, from their behavior this weekend. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. Maybe love was in the sea air?

With the four of us Army buddies reunited for the weekend, we all pulled several pranks on each other and dished out plenty of sarcastic banter and body slams. There were certain times, out of self-preservation I'm sure, that the girls left us guys on our own and went out shopping or getting pedicures, understanding we needed to blow off some testosterone-laden steam.

Last summer, Tank and Santos had received honorable discharges from the Army and were now managing my new security company, RangeMan Enterprises. Technically, I maintained overall control, but I relied heavily on Tank and Santos to handle the day-to-day side of the business. Diego Rios had been true to his word and the renovations at the office building in Trenton had finished right on schedule. With the profits from my video game movie deal, I was able to outfit the office and all of my employees with state-of-the-art technology and equipment.

Of course, RangeMan's first employee hires had been my Army buddies, Javier Valdez, Antonio Rivera and Miguel Muñoz. Diego continued working part-time for RangeMan while he finished up his architectural degree. All four men were eminently qualified for what they were being employed to do, but I also owed all of them an unpayable debt for taking care of Stephanie when I couldn't. When both FBI Special Agents Silvio Jimenez and Johannes "Lars" Larsen were medically retired from the agency due to the injuries they suffered in Philadelphia, Silvio eagerly came to work for me. Although Lars declined my offer of employment, he sent his younger brother, Harold – or Hal as he preferred to be called – to Tank and we hired the guy on the spot. Hal was almost as big as Tank, and Steph took one look at him and started calling him the "Halosaurus."

RangeMan was slowly acquiring clients who needed security monitoring of their businesses and homes, but the immediate income was primarily from bond enforcement. Tank and Santos had scored contacts with bail bonds firms in Philadelphia, Trenton, Newark and Atlantic City. One of those agencies was the Vincent Plum Bail Bonds and Steph's cousin Vinnie was thrilled to finally have someone who could consistently bring in the risky high-ticket skips. His profits soared and my employees, especially the former military men, enjoyed the adrenaline rush of corralling the dangerous fugitives. RangeMan was on its way to becoming a successful lucrative business.

On the one hand, I was extremely grateful to have my state-side assignment at Fort Bragg, where my Babe and I adjusted to the rhythms of married life, including eating dinner together almost every night and socializing with our neighbors. On the other hand, I was more than ready to take over RangeMan's day-to-day management from Tank. December 2010 couldn't come soon enough for me; I truly was ready to leave the Army behind and get on with my civilian life. In the meantime, I continued teaching and training soldier candidates at the Special Forces Qualifications Course, eagerly coming home to Stephanie each evening.

As for Stephanie, she continued working for Books/Plum Designs from her home office in our house at Ft. Bragg. She concentrated her energies on creating new lingerie designs, especially for special markets, and working with fabric manufacturers to develop natural fiber blends specifically created to enhance her innovative designs. With Skype and other teleconferencing tools, she was able to "attend" weekly meetings with the staff at Books/Plum Designs and keep in touch with new developments. I was so proud of my Wonder Woman and I told her that every single day.

The lingerie company had grown so rapidly in the past year that Dawson and Steph had agreed to spend the next year or two bringing the rest of the company up to speed with their rapid rise in production, products and customers. Steph already had several new lines in mind, notably a _Babe with Babies_ line for pregnant women inspired by Tina's struggles to find high-quality lingerie for her expanding figure, and a high-performance _You've Come a Long Way,_ _Babe_ line for athletic women and female military personnel. My Babe's creative juices couldn't be suppressed. Her professional time in North Carolina was well spent and enjoyable.

Steph was excited to return home to New Jersey, not only for our long weekend anniversary celebration, but also because she was looking forward to spending some quality time with family and close friends. I took another sip of black coffee from my mug and waved to Steph as she called the dogs to her. Our guests would be arriving soon and it was time to get ready for the party. Most of the invited friends and family had young children and could only get away for a long day. Since June 6th was on a Sunday this year, the majority of the guests would be driving out to Point Pleasant this morning to celebrate our first wedding anniversary and returning to their homes after sunset.

To simplify matters, I had convinced Steph not to invite her mother and to make do with a phone call instead. It was a strained conversation, but Ellen managed to hold her tongue, maybe because the call was on speaker phone with me sitting right next to Stephanie. Mary Lou Stankovic, Stephanie's childhood friend, was driving in from Trenton with her husband and children. Also from Trenton, the newly married Valerie and Alberto were bringing Mary Alice and Angie along with Edna and Wilbur. From Newark, my parents and grandparents and most of my siblings and their families were coming, as well as Frank Plum and Tía Carmen, who were riding with Mateo and his family. It was obvious that everyone was excited about seeing us again and looking forward to celebrating our first anniversary with a swim in the ocean and an old-fashioned beach barbeque.

Stephanie ran up the stairs to the veranda, the two dogs dashing between her legs. Chuckling at the crazy scene in front of me, I wondered if there was enough time for us to have a quickie before our guests arrived. I shook my head regretfully, knowing that I'd just have to wait. As Steph reached the top of the staircase, I handed her my coffee and she gratefully accepted it, inhaling a huge gulp before handing the mug back to me.

"How are the kids?" she asked, reaching down and picking up Bella, stroking her soft white fur.

I almost smiled and then squatted down to rub Blackie's ears. "I certainly didn't think I was ready to be a parent, but hey, you deal with what life throws at you. As usual, the kids are sleeping through the day, but they'll soon wake up and demand to be fed. And you know how loud they can get. Santos will strangle them, or us, if they wake up Rafe. He just got our godson down to bed after walking the floor with him all night."

As if on cue, a soft cry sounded from the living room. We grinned at each other and the two dogs perked their ears up and all four of us started for the patio door. Once inside, the cries became louder and Bella placed her paws on Steph's knees, a soft woof sounding from deep within her chest.

"There, there, Bella, my sweet," Steph cooed as she lifted the little white dog up and put her in the portable enclosure with her puppies. "Tend to your babies now." Bella immediately lay down and four tiny pups scrambled for position at her swollen teats. Blackie parked himself next to the wire crate and stood guard over his family as Bella nursed their pups. Two of the pups were black like their father, one was white like her mother and one was somewhere in between, which Steph called her little 'mocha latte' boy, but his color was technically called a dark red brindle. They were all adorable.

I pulled Steph close to my chest and wrapped my arms around her as we watched the peaceful canine family scene in front of us. "They're cute little buggers, aren't they?" I asked. "Do you think we'll have four kids, too?" I nuzzled Steph's neck, but she whirled in my arms to face me.

"_Not_ four at once, so don't get any ideas, buster," she replied. "Let's put the talk of any more babies, _of any kind_, on the back burner for another year or so. And by the way, both Bella and Blackie are getting fixed as soon as the puppies are weaned. No arguments this time."

I winced as she said that and I gave Blackie a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, buddy."

Steph slapped me lightly on the arm and hissed, "If you had taken Blackie to the vet when I asked you, this…" she waved her arms at the puppies, "…this would never have happened."

"Maybe it was meant to happen?" I raised an eyebrow as I offered that thought to my wife. "Just like _we_ were meant to happen." Searching her eyes, I saw them soften.

We shared a tender kiss, and Steph settled back again in my arms as I spooned her. We watched as Bella cleaned the nursing puppies. Steph tilted her head up to look at me. "I guess you could say Blackie and Bella fell in love at first sight, just like we did. And the puppies _are_ adorable. I can't be mad at them or at you. When you first brought Bella home, she was so weak I didn't even consider whether she was spayed or if she could get pregnant. So I didn't give Blackie's attentiveness to her a second thought. But two months later…" she shrugged her shoulders. She snuggled deeper into my chest and I wrapped my arms more tightly around my wife.

Sensing that the time was right, I slid my hand into my pants pocket and pulled out a small familiar-looking box. Steph gave a little gasp and whirled around to face me. I never grew tired of watching my Babe's face light up and explained, "I thought this little event in our lives should be represented on your 'life' bracelet."

Steph eagerly opened the box and laughed as she held up a little silver Cairn terrier charm. "Oh, Carlos, it's perfect. It could be Blackie _or_ Bella. Thank you," she cried and stood on her tiptoes to give me a deep and lingering kiss, which I returned in earnest.

"You two _still_ going at it? Isn't that how we left you last night?" Santos growled, rubbing his midriff and yawning as he walked into the living room.

Steph continued to hug me and quipped, "You sound jealous, Lester. Is _daddyhood_ interfering with your love life?" She leaned her head against my shoulder.

Santos blew out a huge breath of air. "Yeah, this Daddy gig is getting in the way of both my love life and my beauty sleep. Let's just say Tina and I'll be glad when Rafe gets back to sleeping through the night. This teething thing must be really painful. Poor little guy's exhausted. I hope no one gets here too early today. Rafe and Tina need all the sleep they can get." He shuffled off to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and rejoined us to look at the puppies. "Look at my little boy go," he said, pointing to the 'mocha latte' pup who was crawling rapidly toward him. He leaned down and opened the wire crate so the puppy could get out.

"I thought you and Tina wanted the white puppy?" Steph asked.

"Tina wants the white one. I want the brown one," he answered, grinning in approval at the little puppy ferociously tugging on the laces of his shoe.

"But Mr. Mocha Latte is going to Carlos' little sister, Lena," Steph explained.

I blew out a breath and looked at Steph. "I forgot to tell you, Babe. I got a text from Lena yesterday and she and Marco checked with their landlord. He told them that no pets are allowed in the building so they won't be taking any of the puppies."

Santos pumped the air in triumph and did a little salsa move, but as he took a step toward me to give me a high-five, my silly friend stumbled over the now-loose shoelaces and fell flat on his face. I couldn't help but laugh out loud and Stephanie giggled and then she held her hand over her mouth trying to stifle her laughter. As Santos turned over, the little brownish puppy started licking his face.

Santos grinned, picked up the pup and yelled, "_That's my boy!_"

And then a loud cry was heard coming from an upstairs room. Rafe was awake! Again! At least it wasn't _my_ fault.

. . .

Everyone was still in high spirits as the party was winding down late Sunday afternoon. Our family and friends had congratulated us umpteen times and there must have been a couple dozen toasts to our continued happiness and success, including an unforgettable one from my cousin Mateo.

He stood up and said, "Carlos, Stephanie, you two are role models for everyone who believes in eternal love, for those who trust that there really is a 'one and only' out there for each of us. You are role models for the benefits of a happy marriage through unconditional love for one person. You are role models showing that two are better than one, that it is better to be a team in facing life's challenges. You are role models for commitment, caring, and unselfish devotion. May your love continue to be a golden beacon for everyone your lives touch. Thank you for letting all of us share this special day with you. Happy anniversary!" Everyone lifted whatever they were drinking and toasted us. It was very humbling.

After Mat's heartfelt toast, it was time for me to perform my duties as the host and thank everyone before sending them home. Pulling my wife up with me, I stood and tapped on my beer bottle with a fork. Everyone quieted down immediately and turned to face us.

"Stephanie and I want to thank you all for coming here to celebrate our wedding anniversary with us. This past year, our first as husband and wife, has been the best year of our lives." I gazed into my Babe's beautiful blue eyes and she gave me a huge smile and nodded in agreement. "While we are enjoying our time in North Carolina, we miss our family and friends and we look forward to returning home at the end of this year." Shouts and cheers reverberated throughout the house and I had to smile.

"And, thanks to several good friends, we will have a lot to come home to." I lifted my Corona in a toast and said, "I'd like to thank Tank James and Lester Santos for doing the lion's share of the work to get RangeMan Enterprises up and running. The new company is off to a promising start and our intent is to make it the premiere security firm on the eastern seaboard within the next five years." Then I lifted the bottle to my lips and took a long sip.

There were loud cheers, the loudest being my father's. I made eye contact with him, acknowledging my father's pride in my success. And then I gave a brief nod to Tank and Santos before turning to the older gentleman sitting next to my Abuela Rosa. "And I owe a debt of gratitude to Dawson Books for being so supportive in allowing Stephanie to work from our home in North Carolina. Stephanie has enjoyed her time as an Army wife, but she also enjoys the challenges of being a businesswoman and the creativeness of designing beautiful, comfortable and 'architecturally supportive' intimate apparel. I'm just glad her designs are sexy as _hel_…" Luckily, I caught myself in time before using a four-letter word in front of all the children in the room. I had to stifle a smile as I continued, "As sexy as they can be. Thank you, Dawson, for your understanding." Dawson dipped his head in acknowledgment as Rosa gave his hand a light squeeze. Everyone toasted them as well.

Finally, I turned to my wife and said, "Stephanie, I know our professions are important to us, but the time we spend together as husband and wife will always be the most important thing. Nothing in this world could ever be as wonderful as the love you give me. Your love makes my days bright – and my nights even brighter – just knowing you're my Babe, my Querida, my darling wife."

Then I pulled out a long velvet box and opened it to her. I heard her gasp as she stared down at the black diamond double infinity pendant on its delicate silver chain. Tears shone in her eyes as I lifted the necklace from the box and carefully fastened it around her neck.

I kissed her lightly, then cleared my throat and continued my speech, "Stephanie, love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, and all fear of an end. There was a time I doubted I would ever have such love in my life and now I can't imagine living without it, without you. Te amo, Stephanie, siempre y para siempre. I love you, Babe, always. Happy Anniversary!" Steph leaned into my chest and we kissed long and deep; Steph blushing as we slowly parted and we heard all the whistling and hooting of our guests.

And then it was my Babe's turn. "Carlos, I am so lucky to have you as my husband and this is the best day of my life. I know I say that all the time, but I really mean it, because each day with you is better than the previous day and it's so amazing. Love is meant to be shared. When you have that person that you can share your love with, it's like you found your other half, which you didn't know was missing. Everything then feels right. Thank you for a year of sharing your love with me and being my other half. I don't have anything sparkly to give you, but I do happen to have the prototype of one of my latest designs to model for you later on." She had to wait for the good-natured wolf whistles and catcalls to die down before she continued. "Happy anniversary to you, my dear husband, to the man I have chosen to love and to be with me for a lifetime. Te amo, Carlos, siempre y para siempre. And I want you to know that words aren't enough to say I love you. So I guess I'll just have to kiss you instead!" And she did. There were more loud cheers and clapping and few wolf whistles.

Suddenly, there was a slight commotion as Abuela Rosa stood up and held her glass high. In a vibrant voice, she spoke clearly, in English, which shocked all the guests in the room into silence. "A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity. The order of those qualities varies for any given year. May you always be warmed by each other's smile. May you always take the time to walk and talk with each other for a while. May you always know deep down you are each other's best friend, and may you always enjoy the kind of love that grows and knows no end. A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person. My Carlito and my dearest Estefania, I wish you an 'always' kind of love." Then she tossed back the last of the wine in her glass and gave me and Stephanie a sly wink.

Shaking my head in amazement, I feigned falling back into my chair and then pulled Steph down to sit on my lap as we enjoyed the furor my crafty Abuela had just set off. Our whole family was shocked, to say the least. Although I still remembered her private confession to me during our wedding reception, this was the first time any of our family members had ever heard our esteemed matriarch utter a word in English. The stunned look on my father's face was priceless. Abuela Rosa just smiled as she gathered up her things and let Dawson lead her out to the car, refusing to respond to my family's increasingly vocal questions. My guess was that most of them would assume Dawson had been giving her English lessons and I'd be willing to bet she would let them continue to think that for the rest of her days.

The party broke up soon afterward, leaving just me and Steph and Tina and Santos, as well as Tank and Keira. The men and I cleaned the kitchen, while Steph and Keira checked on the canine members of our family. As soon as Tina got the baby to settle down in his crib, we all adjourned to the veranda to watch the sunset.

Tank leaned back in the Adirondack chair and scratched his expanding belly. He looked longingly back at the grill where a few lone burgers were still warming and then heaved his massive bulk out of the chair, joining Keira at the veranda railing. Of course, the rest of us pretended we couldn't hear the couple's conversation, but we were listening intently.

"What say you and I come back here by ourselves some weekend?" Tank asked Keira. "Lester said we could use his family's beach house anytime."

Keira responded with a slow smile. "Just the two of us?"

Tank gave a low rumble that sounded like _uh hum_. "Just you and me and the big blue sea."

"I'd like that." She wrapped her arms around Tank's neck and gave him a light kiss. "I'd like to spend a romantic weekend at the beach with you. But can you be romantic?" she asked quizzically. "Your friend Carlos is clearly a romantic."

"Huh! I'm ten times more romantic than him. If it's romance you want, I'll romance the hell out of you," Tank averred, leaning in close, lips at the ready. "Let me give you an example."

"You're on," she challenged, a Mona Lisa smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Tank made good on his offer and, while Santos and I followed his example with our own lovely ladies, the sun disappeared unnoticed.

_AN: We hope you enjoyed Part 1 of the Epilogue for This Never Happened. As soon as it is finished, we will post Part 2, which will be a glimpse into Carlos and Steph's life 5 years later. Not quite the end, not yet._


	64. Chapter 64 Epilogue: Part 2

**EPILOGUE: Part 2**

**Point Pleasant, Five years later: Saturday, June 6, 2015**

_Stephanie's POV_

Last night's storm had cleared the air of smog, leaving only the smell of the fresh sea air and the sight of white caps peaking on the ocean surface. It was a beautiful morning in Point Pleasant and the warmth of the sun was working its magic on my tired muscles and foggy brain. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Carlos leaning against the veranda railing that we'd painted yesterday, a mug of hot coffee in his hands, as he looked out across the ocean. A huge smile split his face as my husband of six years made eye contact with me, and my heart, as always, did a little flutter of joy.

Our eyes held for a moment longer, relaxing me even further and strengthening me for the long fun-filled day to come. And then the laughing shrieks of children drew me back to reality – a reality I'd come to love with my entire being. I stood on the dry sand just above the surf line and was mesmerized by the sight of our two beautiful children laughing and playing together on the beach.

The leader was, of course, Carly, our Carlota Rose. I'd insisted our first-born be named after Carlos, but we were all surprised when _he_ turned out to be a _she_. Abuela Rosa suggested we name our newborn daughter Carlota, and both Carlos and I agreed. We chose Rose for our daughter's middle name, in honor of her great grandmother. To my delight, from the moment Carly was born she looked just like her father, only more delicate. Now four years later, she was the perfect blend of both Carlos and Rosa's personalities: strong-willed, intelligent, strategically thoughtful and exceedingly clever.

Chasing down the beach after his big sister was twenty-month-old Francisco Mateo. Frankie was named after my father and Carlos' favorite cousin, Mateo Herrera. Frankie had parts of both Carlos and me: my unruly curls and blue eyes and Carlos' mocha latte skin and his gorgeous smile. Frankie was a happy little boy and loved to talk even more than I did, though only Carlos and I could understand him with his darling lisp.

There was a little over two years age difference between our children, but they adored each other with very little squabbling between them. That would probably change in a few years, but for now it was a joy to see them so loving toward each other. Carly was born on August 6, 2011 and Frankie on October 6, 2013. Yup! Each of our children shared our birth months, although with their own dates, the same way Carlos and I did. Were we good or what?

After Carly grew bored with building her latest masterpiece of a sandcastle, she begged to go play in the ocean waves, so I scooped up Frankie and we headed toward the edge of the water and let the surf chase us back and forth. Blackie and Bella joined us and soon we all were dodging the waves. Actually, the dogs and Carly were jumping into them, enjoying the cool water and the churning action of the waves rolling onto the beach. That's when things got dicey.

I was 'airplaning' little Frankie around and around, which was one of his favorite things to do, and I totally missed the bigger than usual wave that crashed onto the beach… right where Carly was standing. Apparently, when the water receded, our precious little girl was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately, I was in mid-swing with Frankie and didn't see anything, but Carlos witnessed the entire horrifying event. Later, he told me the word "panic" doesn't begin to describe the emotions and physical sensations a body goes through at such a time.

The next thing I knew, Carlos had vaulted over the railing and was racing at breakneck speed down the sandy slope toward the place where he'd last seen Carly. I'd never seen such an intense grim look on his face. Before he reached the last little dune, though, Carly's head popped up out of the water, and she was laughing with glee. Carlos continued to sprint into the waves and gathered up our giggling daughter and hugged her tightly to his chest.

"Did you see me, Papa?" she asked excitedly. "Did you see that _ginormous_ wave? It tumbled me over and over. That was fun! I wanna do it again." Carly struggled to get down, but her father wasn't in the mood to concede. Carlos lifted her up onto his shoulders and strode out of the water where I immediately exchanged our son for our daughter. Now aware of how close we might have been to losing her, I planted frantic kisses all over my sweet daredevil of a little girl while Carlos held our ever-squirming son.

"Mama, stop… I wanna swim. Let me down," cried Carly, pushing away from my shoulders.

Carlos and I exchanged a long look and then I reluctantly let our daughter slide down my body and slip from my arms. Carly ran back into the waves, plunging her arms into the water and merrily splashing about. Carlos sighed and handed Frankie back to me before he moved down to the water's edge, never taking his eyes off our little girl. My husband's big hands clenched and unclenched as he stood stock still, his feet rooted in the wet sand. I knew it took everything he had not to pluck our fearless daughter out of the water and never let her out of his arms again.

I remembered what Carlos told me about the first time he set eyes on his little girl, nearly four years ago. He said he was lost the moment the nurse laid our newborn daughter in his arms. He couldn't believe how quickly she had wrapped him around her tiny finger. She was the spitting image of him, with bright mischievous brown eyes and a head of silky brown hair. She also had Carlos' bold inquisitive nature and resisted all of our efforts to rein in her natural curiosity. My in-laws merely laughed and declared it was payback for everything young Carlos had put them through. Of course, my husband would do anything to keep our daughter safe _and_ keep a smile on her precious little face. Sometimes it was impossible to do both. He knew he needed to let his independent little _hija_ stretch her wings and explore her world, but we both knew that a part of him wanted to lock Carly away in a Ranger-guarded fortress forever. [_daughter_]

I kissed Frankie on the top of his head before I placed him back down on the beach, where he immediately grabbed a handful of sand and attempted to put it into his mouth. Thankfully, I was faster than he was and I made him drop the sand before any harm was done. In all fairness, it was probably time for a snack. The wind caught at Frankie's brown curls, so like mine, and tears of frustration threatened to spill from his blue eyes, also like mine.

Suddenly, the dogs began to race back up the hill toward the beach house and Frankie, with his stubby little toddler legs, struggled to follow behind them. Shouts of greeting sounded down from the beach house and when we looked up the hill we saw Lester, Tina, Rafe and their four-year-old twins waving from our veranda. Smiling, Carlos and I gathered up our kids and traipsed up the sandy hill to greet our first guests.

Today was our sixth wedding anniversary and it had become somewhat of a tradition for Carlos and me to spend time at the beach, sharing our special day with our close friends and any family members who could make it to the party on that day. We had spent four out of the last five of our anniversaries at the Santos beach house, only taking a break the summer that several of us ladies were pregnant. Neither Tina nor I had any desire to roll around on the beach when we were in our third trimesters. This year, however, was the first time Carlos and I were hosting the festivities at our own beach house, which had been Carlos' anniversary gift to me last year.

Our friend, Diego Rios, had worked with Carlos to design and build our wonderful beach house to very particular specifications, including an extremely secure "safe room" and a separate living area in which guests could have more privacy during an extended stay. RangeMan Enterprises had grown by leaps and bounds and there was now a permanent staff of 30 with another 20 part-time employees. There are times when certain types of clients need to stay in a so-called safe house. Sometimes our beach house serves that purpose, too.

Carlos still receives residuals from his video games and movie, but he now concentrates 100% on RangeMan. In fact, due to his business' success, Carlos is expanding his operations to Miami and Boston, and possibly Atlanta, where three of his old Special Operations associates are located and have agreed to become shareholding partners with him. Currently, Diego is renovating a building in downtown Miami, which will become the southern headquarters for RangeMan Enterprises. Carlos has already appointed Silvio Jimenez, who has lots of family in that area, to run the Miami office in the same manner that Tank ran the Trenton office.

Of course, Books/Plum Designs continues to do quite well, too. We've continued to expand our various product lines, including a small children's line called _BabyCakes_ and we're currently working on launching a men's undergarment line, which we'll probably call _Babe Magnet_. It's been a lot of fun! This year Dawson decided it was time for him to go into semi-retirement, so I now run the company on a day-to-day basis.

Although I miss seeing them every day, Dawson and Rosa have been traveling extensively and I know they're enjoying their "golden years" together. Unfortunately, they called us last night from Bermuda to inform us that foul weather had spoiled their flight plans for the second day in a row, so they wouldn't be able to join our celebration today. I was very sad to hear that, especially since half of Carlos' family had already cancelled due to a flu virus that was making the rounds through most of the Mañoso grandchildren. Our little part of the family had been at the beach all week, so no one had passed their germs to us.

The year I had Carly, there was a mini-baby boom at Books/Plum Designs. Melinda Walker, who had married Kazuhiro Watanabe in a beautiful autumn wedding ceremony in 2010, gave birth to a little girl. Stella O'Reilly, Joy Robinson and Amanda McCord, who had been married longer than the rest of us, had their first babies – all boys – that year, too. Tina hit the jackpot, though, giving birth to her twins, Angelina Michelle and Armando Miguel, whom Lester nicknamed "Armie," a sort of contraction of the first syllables of his name. It was a good thing Dawson and I had already made plans to create an on-site childcare center, but we've had to hire twice the staff we'd originally planned for to take care of all the children born that year and since then. It's been expensive, but totally worth every penny.

Carly squealed with delight and dashed up the beach house stairs faster when she saw little Angelina Santos, whose nickname was Gina, courtesy of her older brother, Rafe, who couldn't pronounce her name at first. Two months before Carlos and I moved back to New Jersey, our neighbors across the street in Bel Aire, the Dishers, decided to move to Florida and Lester and Tina bought their townhouse. It has been great fun raising our children together and our little girls are the best of friends, practically inseparable. Today, though, anyone who witnessed the hugs and giggles and carrying on of our little drama queens would have thought they hadn't seen each other for _years_.

As always, Blackie and Bella were very happy to socialize with their son, Buster, the "Mocha Latte" puppy Lester and Tina had adopted five years ago. Buster might be a grown dog now, but he still managed to get into quite a bit of mischief, such as chewing up Lester's shoes and digging in Tina's flower beds every chance he got. I reached the veranda next and Tina embraced me in a tight hug. Carlos and Frankie brought up the rear and the men gave each other the standard sideways "man hug."

"I know it's early, but there's cold beer in the cooler. You're looking a little rough around the edges, man. How was traffic?" Carlos asked Lester as Frankie squirmed to get down and play with the dogs.

Lester lifted the top of the cooler and took out four Coronas, one for each of us adults, and handed them out. "Naw, Ranger, the traffic wasn't too bad," he answered and he took a long swig of his beer.

During their second year in business, the employees of RangeMan had started calling Carlos by the nickname of "Ranger." After having lived at Fort Bragg, where there were Army Rangers all over the place, I thought it was very amusing. Carlos went with it, though, in a good-natured manner and soon many of his clients and people outside of the company were calling him Ranger, too.

Tina took a sip of her beer and said, "It was the ride in the minivan with three screaming kids that nearly broke him. They kept arguing about which DVD to watch. The boys wanted 'Power Rangers,' of course, but Gina kept insisting on 'Dora the Explorer,' even though they had let her watch it twice already. Every time I'd put in the DVD the boys wanted, Gina would turn on the tears and you _know_ Lester simply has no defenses against the waterworks." Then she winked at me and said, "Gee, I don't know _how_ our sweet little girl figured that out."

"Longest car ride _ever_," Lester said as he shook his head and shuddered at the memory. "Thank God it's five o'clock somewhere!" And he belched low and long.

Tina just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Tank and Keira were the next guests to arrive at the beach house. They had gotten married a few years back and still lived happily – well, most of the time, anyway – in New Brunswick. There'd been very little talk of children so far, but that was okay. At least their cats had finally learned to tolerate each other.

"Hey!" Tank greeted us with a big wave. "Where's the party? Y'all look tired already and nobody else is even here yet. What's up with that?"

Lester tossed him a beer and growled, "Just wait until you have kids, man. _Then_ you can ask those questions. Damn! I mean, _darn_. This is my second beer and I _still_ haven't recovered from the car ride from hell."

Tina elbowed Lester and said, "Cool it, Daddy-O. The more you talk like that, the less Tank and Keira will want to have kids."

"Damn skippy," Keira chuckled as she followed Tank onto the veranda. "We like our child-free life just as it is." She not-so-subtly goosed Tank who moved faster than I thought such a big man could. I shook my head as I handed Keira a bottle of her favorite wine cooler.

Tank and Keira had barely settled in when Bobby and Miranda showed up, with smiling faces and arms full of gifts, mostly beach toys, for all of the kids. They'd been dating exclusively for the past two years, but there'd been no mention of marriage. Even considering Bobby's former ladies' man ways, I was pretty sure about Bobby's intentions to put a ring on Miranda's finger very soon and I told my husband about my suspicions. Carlos, however, warned me that Bobby was more likely to ask Miranda to move in with him instead.

"Babe, I know you want all of your friends to have a 'Happily Ever After' ending with princess weddings and cake for all, but some guys just don't think they're cut out for marriage. Bobby Brown is one of them," Carlos said to me one night as we were putting away the clean dishes. "I mean, I love the man like a brother, but from what I know of his upbringing and his lifestyle until he met your friend, Miranda, the best she can hope for will be for him to ask her to move in with him. That's all I'm saying."

When I had talked to Miranda to see what her true feelings were, she seemed resigned to that fate as well. Apparently, Bobby's parents had never married each other or anyone else. They were leftovers from the hippie era and had raised their children in a variety of communes all over the country until they decided to establish a goat farm in the rural part of New Jersey. Now they raised most of their own food supply and sold artisan cheeses to high-end restaurants in NYC. Joining the Army had been Bobby's supreme act of rebellion, but most of his views on relationships were still pretty liberal.

"So, what's new with you two," I asked Miranda after she and Bobby had snuggled together on one of the deck chairs.

Miranda hesitated, glanced at Bobby and then blurted out, "We found the perfect place yesterday and we're moving in together at the end of the month!"

After a round of heartfelt congratulations from all of us, we gathered around to hear the details of their new apartment. Since neither Bobby's nor Miranda's current apartments were large enough for both of them to inhabit, they had decided to find a mutually agreeable place. Admittedly, my heart felt kind of sad for Miranda, but when I made eye contact with Carlos, the expression on his face said, "_I told you so._" Arrogant man!

Later, when all of our guests had arrived, we had a huge meal: hamburgers, hot dogs, BBQ ribs, grilled chicken, grilled veggies of all sorts, corn-on-the-cob, baked beans, sliced watermelon, fresh pineapple spears, and lots of different salads. Although there was a big cake to celebrate our anniversary, there were also many other kid-friendly desserts, including cookies, brownies, Jell-O® and marshmallow Rice Krispies® bars. I just knew that, sooner or later, one of the kids would barf. _Lucky me_, it was Frankie. Thankfully, my father was holding him at the time and my sweet little boy was smart enough to aim for the sand.

As I took Frankie from my father so that I could clean him up and help him feel better, Carmen asked if I needed any assistance. I smiled gratefully, but declined her offer and told her to stay with Dad. Recently, they had celebrated their second wedding anniversary by taking a trip up to Niagara Falls and by all accounts, they were deliriously happy. Yes, after several years of dating each other, Carmen married Dad on New Year's Day of 2013, in a very small, very private church ceremony. Only Teresa and Ricardo, Mateo and Lucia and their children, and Carlos and Carly and I had been in attendance. I didn't conceive little Francisco until later that month when Carlos and I attended the President's second inauguration. Receiving permanent invitations to such events was one of Carlos' benefits as a Medal of Honor recipient. Anyway, we're pretty sure that particular "weekend getaway" was the time of conception for young Frankie.

When I went inside the beach house, I knocked on the bedroom door where Grandma Mazur and her faithful beau, Wilbur Sneed, were taking a nap. They had declined to have a big meal and asked me to wake them before we cut the big cake. Both Grandma Mazur and Wilbur have slowed down a tiny bit, only playing bingo three nights a week instead of five, and only going to the funeral parlor for viewings when they really felt like it.

"Oh, Stephanie," Grandma Mazur called out. "Do you have a minute? Everything was so crazy when we first arrived; I forgot to tell you something important."

This was true. Grandma Mazur and Wilbur had caught a ride to Point Pleasant with Valerie and Alberto and their kids and Mad Max, one of Blackie and Bella's sons. As soon as all the cousins saw each other and the dogs, there was a scrum of little people and chaos ensued. Valerie and Alberto now had two more daughters, Lisa and Vivian, the youngest being one year older than my Frankie. Val told me they were planning to try one more time for a boy, but after that, no matter what sex the child came out, it would be the last one for them. Church or no Church, Val was getting her tubes tied. Angie and Mary Alice were very good big sisters to their half-siblings, but at times like this, when all the kids were together, they _all_ seemed to run wild.

I hefted Frankie higher on my hip and said, "Okay, Grandma, but could you give me fifteen minutes or so? First, I need to take Frankie upstairs and clean him up. He just barely missed emptying his stomach on Daddy's lap. It won't take me too long; I'm a pro at this stuff now."

Grandma Mazur cackled behind her closed door and said, "I'll bet you are! Just come by when you're done."

True to my word, I was back in fifteen minutes with a freshly washed and dressed Frankie. My poor baby was very tired, though, so I took him out to Carlos and he promptly fell asleep on his big, strong, comforting shoulder. Then I returned to Grandma Mazur's room and discovered that Wilbur had wandered out to eat something light and salty before it was time to eat cake.

"Come on over and sit next to me," Grandma Mazur said and she patted a space on the bed. After I complied, she continued, "I was talking to your mother the other day and she mentioned how much it would mean to her if you and Carlos and the children joined her for the Juniak family's Labor Day picnic this year."

_Damn!_ I thought. _I knew this was coming._

My mother had married Joe Juniak as soon as her divorce from my father was final. I guess that, despite everything, the man truly loves her and he accepts her as she is, craziness and all. Honestly, I think Juniak is a happy man, not because their marriage is perfect, but because he "sees" my mother through the hazy lens of true love. Nevertheless, Carlos and I rarely allow my mom to visit with our kids, usually at our home or at a public playground, and only when Juniak is with her. He's become the stabilizing force in her life. When he's around, things go smoothly.

During the past few years, there have only been a handful of times when I've allowed myself to be somewhat alone with Mom. Usually, it happens during a "Mazur girl" luncheon, when Val and Mom and Grandma and I meet at some neutral place to share a meal and pass around the latest school photos or candid photos of all our kids. Carlos supports me in this, but he's always nearby in case things go bad. So far, so good. But we've never been out to Joe Juniak's house and mingled with his sons and their families.

"Labor Day, huh?" I mused, stalling for time. "I'll have to check with Carlos, but I'm almost certain we already have plans, Grandma."

Grandma's shoulders slumped and she sighed, "I know it's a lot to ask, but I'd just like to see us all together in one place for a change. I love all of my girls and I've been praying for the miracle of being a solid family again."

"I…I don't know, Grandma," I shook my head. "I just don't know."

"Well, I think you should think about it," Grandma Mazur said and she patted my hand. "Now, is it time for cake?"

I nodded. "Yes. Let's go." And we walked arm-in-arm out to the veranda.

After everyone had eaten their fill of cake and the parents had wiped down all of their sticky children, everyone gathered on the veranda. Although I truly missed those who weren't able to join us, I was grateful for the health and well-being of all who were with us now. Once Carlos had everyone's attention, he drew me into his arms and we gazed around at the faces of all our close friends and family.

"Stephanie and I want to thank all of you for coming out today and sharing our sixth anniversary with us," Carlos said in a loud clear voice. "According to one of the wedding websites that are still bookmarked on our home computer, candy is the traditional sixth anniversary present. As most of you can surely imagine, that made things pretty easy for me this year, especially considering that last year's present was wood and I ended up buying this beach house for my lovely wife." There were a lot of knowing laughs around the veranda and I leaned into Carlos, reveling in his manly scent and his comforting strength.

"Anyway," he continued, "In honor of this 'candy anniversary,' my lovely bride and I had some very special chocolate bars made up for all of you." Our guests exclaimed in delight as we began to hand out the unique candy bars.

"They're personalized," I said, handing a bar to my father and one to Carmen. "That means each one of you will know which bar is yours. And not only are the wrappers personalized, but the candy bars themselves are personalized with the ingredients that each person favors. Grandma Mazur, your bar has coconut and pineapple in it, and we made sure that there are no nuts in the bars for the kids with nut allergies." Several of the parents nodded appreciatively.

Carlos pointed a finger at Grandma Mazur and warned, "That also means _no stealing_ someone else's candy."

Everyone laughed, including my grandmother, who sheepishly returned Wilbur's candy to his outstretched hand.

The sounds of little fingers peeling off candy wrappers alerted me to the potential dangers of letting so many children consume such large quantities of sugar immediately prior to them climbing into their parents' cars and heading back to Newark, Trenton and a few other places west of here. Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about that. And despite the sugar high everyone was sure to feel, this was definitely one of our better ideas.

Much later, after our guests had departed and we had tucked our overly-tired children in their beds, I carefully arranged myself on our bed as seductively as possible and waited for Carlos. He was downstairs making his nightly security rounds of checking all the doors, windows and alarms, plus I knew he'd make a last check on the kids before joining me for our special anniversary celebration. It had become an annual event that both of us looked forward to.

For each wedding anniversary, I'd tried to come up with a special late night surprise for my sexy husband. I always based my choice of nighttime outfits on the traditional wedding anniversary gift for each year. On our first anniversary, with paper being the traditional gift, I had a prototype of one my sexiest teddies made up in a delicate linen paper and dared my Superman to "do the deed" without tearing the fragile cellulose lingerie. After grumbling about wanting to rip the see-thru paper right off my body, he accepted the challenge and within minutes had me so hot and bothered I wanted to rip the crinkly thing off myself. The paper clothing was noisy and uncomfortable and I was afraid I'd get a paper cut in a place no one should ever get one. I made a mental note never to wear paper lingerie again.

The next anniversary was cotton, which was much more to my liking. But Carlos had already seen all of my _Babe_ lingerie made of cotton so I had to come up with a different idea. I decided to make my husband work a little for our night of passion. Being seven months pregnant, I was pretty tired most of the time and thought if I could tire my Superman out a bit, we might be on a more even level for our night of love-making. So I wore layers upon layers of black cotton lace lingerie from my _Babe with Babies_ pregnancy line. Carlos likened my multi-layered outfit to unwrapping a box within a box within a box, anticipation building until your hands are trembling by the time you finally reach the long awaited and highly desirable present inside.

He began his seduction by dramatically sweeping me into his arms and leading me in a slow waltz around the bedroom. Then he started quietly singing to me "Can I Have This Kiss Forever." Our song, sung so beautifully by my husband, brought back all the wonderful memories of our wedding day. My tiredness faded away under his magic spell.

We kissed slowly, lazily; our tongues dancing with each other just as our bodies were. And then he began removing my first layer, a filmy black peignoir with lots of bows and laces to be undone. He was methodical and thorough and I thought I would come undone before he got to the good stuff. There were still so many layers to go. What a dumb idea that was; sometimes, I think I'm my own worst enemy. To speed things along, I tried to remove the matching full-length nightgown, but Carlos caught my wrists and waggled his finger at me. He was enjoying undressing me and watching my huge belly slowly reveal itself as the cotton layers were removed. His soft stroking of my bare arms and his warm breath on my neck had me breathing in quick gasps. When the nightgown dropped away, Carlos kneeled in front of me and kissed the basketball that was now my belly, whispering comforting words to our growing child inside. My next layer was a sheer black cotton camisole with tap pants, which quickened Carlos' breath. After many hot kisses and intimate caresses, and some sleight of hand where Carlos flicked away another layer, we were down to an incredibly tiny teddy that exposed more of my skin than it covered. I shouldn't have worried about being tired. Carlos was incredibly sexy, and his hungry looks, arousing touch and whispered Spanish endearments had me helping him rip off the last of the layers: first, a strapless bra, then a barely-there thong. Our second anniversary celebration resulted in a _very_ energetic night of cotton-fueled passion.

Our third year celebration as husband and wife surprised even Carlos, which, let me tell you, is very hard to do. The traditional gift for the third anniversary is leather, and leather conjures up the most delicious sexual fantasies! By then, I was slim and trim again, having worked hard to lose all the "baby" weight I'd gained with Carly. While contemplating what I could do with leather, I remembered our very first Anything Goes fantasy when, as Intergalactic Princess Stephanie, I spanked Carlos with his own leather belt. I'd been surprised how aroused I'd gotten delivering those swats on his taut round buttocks, which, by the way, hadn't changed a bit after four years. In fact, due to his daily workouts in the RangeMan gym, my Superman's entire gorgeous body was still as firm and ripped as the day I'd met him. I was one lucky lady!

I'd done the Dominatrix thing once with him before we got married, but not wearing a full-blown leather Domme outfit. I went all out this time, wearing a black leather cinched corset, long black leather gloves, black choker collar with spikes and thigh-high black leather boots. I even ordered a whip.

Carlos has always loved me in high-heeled boots and this time was no exception. We even did a little foreplay with his massive hard length squeezed between my tightly-compressed leather-covered thighs. Channeling my most aggressive self, I wore the haughtiest look I could manage and tried to copy Carlos' official military command voice. My goal was to convince him to wear the handcuffs I'd borrowed from Tank – you can't imagine the fast-talking I had to do to explain _that request_. Carlos loved my dangerous new look and badass attitude and readily complied to being chained to the headboard with his own company's handcuffs. And he was more than eager to let me take the top and go for a very long ride. He even seemed to enjoy a few flicks of the whip. I know I did, and I enjoyed being a Dominatrix for a few hours, but my preference was our usual arrangement: Anything Goes at any time by either of us. As much fun as we both had, this risqué leather outfit was one type of "lingerie" that Books/Plum Designs would never offer its customers.

Our fourth anniversary got a little silly. I mean what do you do when fruits and flowers are the traditional gift? Plus, I was five months pregnant at the time and not feeling the sexiest. I decided to go with the old adage: _fake it till you make it_ or _act as if_. I designed a skimpy little teddy made totally out of flowers and stretchy elastic cord; the flowers were all different shades of purple. And to top it off, I wore a Carmen Miranda-inspired fruit headdress. I figured I'd look and smell good with all the flowers and Carlos could have a healthy fruit snack in between satisfying _my_ very healthy appetite for him. He applauded my creativity that year, but I know he was thankful that fruits and flowers were the traditional anniversary gift for only one year.

I had no idea what to surprise Carlos with on our fifth anniversary as the traditional gift was wood. I'd considered making _him_ my present as he could grow his own wood at the drop of a hat, or should I say a drop of my panties, and his _wood_ was good for the rest of the night. But it just so happened that Books/Plum Designs was experimenting with a "green" line of lingerie made from organic natural fabrics, such as cotton, silk and bamboo.

As I found out when I was researching different fabric possibilities, bamboo is a highly sustainable resource and that's good for the Earth. And not only is bamboo eco-friendly, it is a better material for clothing than many fabrics. Bamboo fabric is very smooth, lightweight, looks beautiful, wicks away moisture and has antibacterial properties. Perfect for underwear.

So, while creating an eco-friendly line of underthings from bamboo, I designed something extra sexy for me to wear for Carlos. Hey, bamboo's sort of like wood, isn't it? Yeah, I know, it's stretching things a bit since bamboo is really a type of grass, but for my purposes bamboo lingerie was a good way to go for this anniversary surprise. To add a bit of ambiance I decorated our bedroom with leafy branches from the oak tree in our townhouse's backyard and found a nice woodsy perfume to spray over the bed. And then I put my new _Earth Babe_ bamboo lingerie and its moisture-wicking capabilities to the test with a sweaty all-nighter with my sexy Superman.

Now it was our sixth anniversary and I was really looking forward to it. _Candy!_ Yeah! All day long, Carlos had deluged me with sweets of all kinds, from caramels to chocolates to mints to candied fruits. There were baskets of candy bars, lollipops and licorice, and bowls of jelly beans and gummies, M&Ms® and Skittles®, and sour balls and malted milk balls. He'd searched all over the globe for the most decadent candy delicacies, like truffles filled with exotic liqueurs. If I could hide my treasure from the kids, I'd be in candy heaven for months sampling the enormous array of "sugarplums" Carlos had given me. But how did I translate candy into a passionate night of sex? I was all too aware of Carlos' distaste for sweets, starting with the four-dessert mess I'd smeared all over Carlos for one of our Anything Goes fantasies the very first night we met.

Finally, after rejecting several ideas, Tina turned me on to the answer. It involved a type of lingerie very few self-respecting _Babes_ would ever wear except for an erotic occasion such as this. I went online and ordered several products, even ordering something for my husband, though I doubted I could get him to wear anything so outrageous.

So here I was, in bed, impatiently waiting for my husband of six years to join me for a special one-on-one anniversary celebration with me as the gift and candy as the outer wrapping. I couldn't stop fidgeting as I had a sugar buzz humming through my body from all the candy I'd eaten. I turned on my iPod and selected the song I'd downloaded earlier and the familiar strains of the "Candy Man" sung by Sammy Davis Jr. filled the room.

_Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew_

_Cover it with choc'late and a miracle or two_

_The Candy Man, oh the Candy Man can_

_The Candy Man can 'cause he mixes it with love _

_and makes the world taste good_

When Carlos came into the bedroom, he seemed taken aback by my choice of seduction music, but he smiled hugely when he saw me sprawled across the bed in a skimpy bra and panty set with a matching necklace. As he came closer though, his smile turned to puzzlement as he tried to figure out exactly what I was wearing.

"Don't tell me that's candy?" Carlos intoned, not as happy as when he first came into the room. I gazed down at my "sweet" outfit and thought the little multi-colored candies beaded together on soft cotton string looked rather alluring on my still-trim figure.

"It's in keeping with the theme of the day." I smiled and put the candy necklace in my mouth, sucking noisily on the hard candies. As kids, Mary Lou and I had eaten dozens of these little candy necklaces. They'd tasted much better back then or maybe my tastes had matured. Tonight I had something infinitely tastier in mind to put in my mouth. I let the necklace drop and reached for my husband.

Obviously, Carlos wasn't totally turned off by the candy lingerie. He quickly shrugged out of his clothes and hopped into bed. After he ran his hands over my candy-covered form, he shook his head once, smiled and leaned in to kiss me. I pulled back with a sly grin and plucked an extra-large-sized G-string complete with a candy pouch from under my pillow. Twirling it around my finger, I grinned as I informed him, "This one's for you, so I'll have something to nibble on before I get to the main course."

Carlos' eyes widened and he let out a low choke and growled, "No way, Babe. I'm not putting that torture device anywhere near my junk." Then he grinned and said, "Besides, I'm so hot I'd melt those candies into a sticky hot mess." He placed one of my hands over his crotch and he was right. The heat coming off his engorged penis was scorchingly hot. It might actually melt the candies.

Not waiting any longer, he pulled me closer and kissed me, smacking his lips as he tasted the candy flavor. "Not bad," he decided, and kissed me again. Carlos' kisses had always left me breathless, but now the hard candies were digging into my tender skin, distracting me from my husband's ardent embraces.

As his hands gently closed around my ass cheeks, I squealed a very unsexy, "_Ouch!_" The hard candies were now digging into my doodah. I was ready for the candy to come off, so I could… well, to be blunt… so I could come off myself.

Carlos was thinking the same thing as he began to slide the upper string of candies off my shoulder.

"Wait," I whispered. "It's a _candy_ bra. You have to _eat it_."

Carlos buried his face in my neck, nuzzling my ear as he mumbled, "I would love to eat _you_, but hell if I'm eating all that sugary candy. You're sweet enough for me." And he sucked on a soft spot on my throat, slowly driving me crazy with his love bites. I was ready for action, but I wasn't about to let him get off so easy. This was our _candy_ anniversary, after all.

"You _have_ to eat your way through to get to the good stuff," I teased, thrusting my candy-covered boobs in his face. He tried…he really did, but he couldn't bring himself to eat all that sugar. And I refused to let him use his hands. At first he tried to push the bra out of the way with his nose, but it was tied too tight around my chest. Then he tried to wiggle his tongue in between the candy strings to tease my nipples, but there wasn't enough give in the bra. Finally, out of frustration Carlos bit through the lone string of candies holding the bra cups together, kissed me with an open mouth and transferred the bits of shattered candy to me, and then he made both of us very happy. He lavished tons of attention on my now-bare breasts and I happily moaned and groaned with each nibble, lick and kiss.

All too soon he traveled south, planting sweet kisses and nibbles all the way down, making me shiver in anticipation. When he reached my tummy, I was nearly giggling in anticipation on how he would negotiate around the candy thong. He wasted no time with the candy "barrier" and immediately bit through the candy string laced around my hips. In one swift move, Carlos lifted my ass off the bed and his teeth closed around the candy thong, ripping it off my body. I had no idea what happened to the broken thong, but it was a relief to have the hard candies out of the soft inner recesses of my crotch.

Besides, Carlos had something else hard and much more tantalizing to put in place of the hard candies. Our love-making started out sweet and soft and graduated to fierce and wild. Over the next few hours, we both expended such a considerable amount of energy my sugar buzz fizzled and I didn't even remember falling asleep.

I do remember being wakened by loud shouts of glee as Carly and Frankie jumped into bed with us the next morning. I scooted over a bit to let the kids snuggle in between Carlos and me and that's when I felt it. There were hundreds of hard candies scattered throughout the bed. They bounced up and down on the sheets as the kids scrambled over their father. I looked at my thighs and saw tiny indentations all over them. Carlos turned over and the same indentations were all over his back. And then Carly held up one of the candies.

"What's this, Mama?" she asked.

Frankie was perched on top of Carlos' chest when Carlos cut his eyes to me, a slow grin forming on his face. He held up his hands and chuckled, "This one's all yours, Babe."

I plopped Carly on my lap, scooped up a handful of the loose candies and told her, "_This_ is why you should never eat in bed."

Carlos made the weirdest face and then laughed so hard, he almost choked.

Ignoring her (dirty-minded) father, Carly studied my face and scowled, "But what are they? They _look_ like candy. Were you and Papa eating candy in bed? You won't let _me_ eat in bed." Carlos was still smirking, but silently now.

At the mention of candy, Frankie became very interested and crawled off his Papa's chest and grabbed a few bits in his chubby little hand. He started to put them in his mouth, but I stopped him and announced, "Papa is going to get both of you dressed for the day while I make us some blueberry pancakes. How does that sound?"

Carly flung her arms around my neck and shouted, "I love you, Mama! Can we have ice cream, too?" I nodded vigorously and received a second hug and a sloppy Carly kiss.

Yeah, it was a distraction and a bribe, but I didn't want to have to explain why there were hundreds of little candies rolling around in our bed and I certainly didn't want my children eating these particular candies. After all, some of those little round disks had been stuck to some, er, delicate places.

Carlos swept both children up in his strong arms and before they left the bedroom I wrapped my arms around all of them, grateful for _all that had happened_ to bring us to this wonderful time in our lives.

During breakfast, Carly kept returning to the topic of eating in bed and how that was one of her favorite dreams. She told us about one of her friends at preschool whose older sister had conducted a tea party under the covers of her bed one night. Apparently, the girls got in trouble with their parents after the graham cracker crumbs attracted ants. Our little girl then proceeded to tell us how she would _never_ get caught doing something silly like that because someone would have to bring her food to her bed on a tray. Carlos made a face that clearly showed his distaste for such a fantasy, but our daughter's comment made me stop and think.

"So, Carly, are you saying that if there weren't any rules against it, you'd eat in bed all the time?" I asked.

"Yes, Mama, but only if you brung me my food on a tray," she answered. "I think it'd be much fancier that way."

I traded glances with Carlos and then asked, "And where, pray tell, did you get such an idea?"

She swallowed a piece of her pancake before answering, "At Abuela Teresa's house. Sometimes, when you let us stay there at night, Abuelo Ricardo brings Abuela her breakfast on a fancy tray while she's still in bed. She lets me have the strawberries out of her fizzy drink. But I'm not allowed to have any of the fizzy drink 'cuz it alacolic."

Carlos and I bit our lips to keep from laughing at our little girl's mispronunciation of the word "alcoholic." Obviously, my father-in-law was continuing to romance his wife, even when they were watching the kids for us during our occasional out-of-town getaways. It was good to know that the older generation still maintained the spark in their marriage.

"I have an idea," I said as I sat down next to Carlos and pilfered some of his scrambled eggs. He rarely ate my pancakes and after the previous evening's sugar overload, I wasn't going to push my luck in the food department. "What if we played a little game – let's call it… 'Anything Goes' – where you could sometimes ask for anything at all and not get into any trouble? We would only play it at very special times, like birthdays or anniversaries, and if it's something really big, you'd have to give us more time to make it happen."

Carlos raised an eyebrow at me, but Carly's eyes lit up like a pair of black diamonds as she said, "So, like, I could ask for breakfast in bed on a tray like Abuela Teresa gets and you would _have_ to give it to me – but not with the fizzy drink 'til I'm all grown up?"

I nodded and replied, "That's right. No champagne brunches for you yet, kiddo, but I think sparkling cider will be a fine substitute for now."

Carly clapped her hands and exclaimed, "Oh, I like this game! When can we play it?"

Of course, Frankie joined his big sister in clapping his hands, too, and smooshed scrambled egg flew everywhere. Typical! We rarely made it through a meal without someone making a big mess. Carlos merely shook his head and got up from his seat at the table to help me clean up the bits of egg our son had splattered on the table and floor.

Then, scooping Frankie into his arms, Carlos glanced back at me and said, "Babe, I think there's been enough of 'Anything Goes' for this weekend. I'm taking the 'Wonder Boy' out for a little dip in the ocean. It'll be faster than a bath."

Carly turned to me and asked, "Did you an' Papa already play the game for your nanaversity? Since Papa doesn't like candy, was it _your_ wish to sleep with so much of it in your bed so you could have sweet dreams, Mama?"

"Something like that," I mumbled, knowing that my face had turned bright pink.

Carlos playfully tweaked Carly's nose and said, "Tell you what; your birthday is coming up pretty soon and I think that's the right time for you to play 'Anything Goes' – at least the junior version, anyway. You think up something really special and tell us about it and we'll try our best to make that wish come true, okay?" Then he winked at me before disappearing through the door with Frankie to head to the beach.

My little girl's face lit up with her thoughts of all the possibilities. All I could think of was that I had probably just opened up something like "Pandora's Box." Sweet dreams indeed!

_**Rosa's**_** Restaurant, Twenty-two years later: Saturday, June 6, 2037**

_Stephanie's POV_

Watching my grown daughter dancing with her brand new husband, and looking gorgeous in the dress I'd designed for myself to wear exactly twenty-eight years ago, brought tears to my eyes. I glanced at Carlos and saw that, although the rest of his body and his face were relaxed, his fists were clenched – again. This made me chuckle. Still very much the protective father, Carlos didn't think any man was good enough for his one and only daughter, not even his own godson.

Yes, that's right. Our twenty-five-year-old Carlota Rose had just married twenty-seven-year-old Rafael Carlos Santos, Tina and Lester's oldest child. It was a beautiful wedding, very much like mine and Carlos' wedding, especially since it occurred in the same church and almost all the same people were present. Of course, we all looked a bit older, but that was okay.

"This shouldn't have happened already. They're too young," Carlos growled in such a way that only I could hear him. This must have been the thousandth time I'd heard that comment and I was tired of it.

I sighed and leaned against his shoulder. "Rafe is a _lawyer_ now, for heaven's sake, and Carly just earned her MBA. _And_ they waited to get married until after they finished their education – just like you asked them to do. Jeez! I _still_ think it was sneaky; you using your 50th birthday 'Anything Goes' wish on them like that."

From the time of Carly's fourth birthday, the clean version of "Anything Goes" had become a family tradition in our home. Over the years we had built tree forts in the backyard, gone on trips to Disney World, swam with dolphins and had plenty of breakfasts in bed. Our kids were creative and daring and we enjoyed making their wishes come true. Of course, Carlos and I still played the "R-rated" version of the game, but we were pretty sure our kids hadn't figured that out for themselves yet.

Carlos shrugged nonchalantly at my whispered comment. This was an argument we'd had plenty of times over the past several years. None of us could believe he was serious that year when he'd made his birthday request. His "Anything Goes" wish was for Carly and Rafe to hold off on any wedding plans until after Rafe and Carly finished their studies at Harvard, where they both had decided to go so they could be together; Rafe at the Law School and Carly at the Business School to get her Master's degree. Naturally, Carly had been furious with Carlos and threatened to elope. Thankfully, Rafe, who had always been very gentle and reasonable with Carly, calmed her down. Much to my great relief, our headstrong daughter eventually started talking to her equally headstrong father again after a few tense weeks.

Carly and Rafe had been in love with each other since they'd hit puberty. Honestly, it was inevitable; when our kids were little, Tina and Lester lived across the street from us and our kids all grew up with each other. Unfortunately, Lester and Carlos' relationship became strained when our children admitted to us that they'd gone too far after a high school dance. To his credit, my husband didn't kill his godson, but Carlos then did everything in his power to keep the young lovebirds apart, including moving our entire family to Miami for the remainder of Carly's high school years and insisting that she go to college in Florida while Rafe attended Princeton up north. Those were some tough years, but we survived.

Actually, we still live in Florida and things are much better now. Carlos has been running RangeMan Enterprises from the Miami office for the past decade and Books/Plum Designs opened an office in Miami, too. When our kids were in grade school, Abuela Rosa decided she'd had enough of New Jersey's cold winters, so she and Dawson moved to Florida. Dawson expanded the company and when he finally retired for good, we promoted Kazuhiro Watanabe to run the northern office while I ran the company from our southern location.

Most of our family still lives in New Jersey, and although we sold our townhouse, we kept the beach house for our twice-yearly visits. When Wilbur Sneed died a few years ago at the ripe old age of 101, Grandma Mazur moved back in with my mother, who's still married to Joe Juniak. My father swears my grandmother will outlive us all. When we come up for the Christmas holidays, we usually visit with all of them for at least part of a day. Juniak has always been a generous host and Mom is…well, she's still Mom. I guess it's safe to say we tolerate each other a little bit better these days, but we'll never be bosom pals.

Every time we travel north, we marvel at the ever-expanding Mañoso clan. So many of Carlos' siblings' children are grown and have gotten married and had children, Teresa and Ricardo now have twelve great-grandchildren. My father and his wife Carmen usually spend a few months in Florida with us and most of the year in Jersey with Mateo's family, which now includes a few grandchildren as well. Life is amazing!

Tina and Lester also sold their townhouse and moved to a large single family home. They had to. They ended up with a total of seven children; four boys and three girls. After giving birth to their fifth child, Tina decided to become a stay-at-home mother. She and Lester raised great kids. Besides their son marrying our daughter, their daughter Gina is still Carly's best friend and served as her Maid of Honor. Despite Carlos' somewhat surly mood today, I'm glad our families are now officially joined together forever.

As for Tank and Keira, they decided not to have their own children, but they did become certified as foster parents. Surprisingly, they're very good with teenagers. Over the past decade and a half, they have had the opportunity to help several older children make the difficult transition between the foster child system and young adult life. Both RangeMan and Books/Plum Designs have hired some of Tank and Keira's former "kids."

Mary Lou's kids are all grown now, but only one of her sons is married. She told me I'll have to come up to Jersey and sedate her when she becomes a grandmother. Most of our other friends have children who are grown or almost grown, too. Even Bobby and Miranda _finally_ got married after the birth of their first child, who's in college now. They have two boys and two girls. Kaz and Melinda have three stunningly gorgeous daughters, all of whom have terrible crushes on our son, Francisco, who now calls himself Cisco, instead of Frankie. Of course, even though he's twenty-three now, he'll always be Frankie to me.

Speaking of Frankie and girls, I glanced around the restaurant until I spotted our son. He was very much like his father; extremely handsome, tall and muscular. Like his sister, Frankie graduated from the University of Florida. Although we could afford to pay his tuition outright, our son competed for and earned an ROTC scholarship and was currently serving in the Army. He had recently graduated from Ranger School and was on leave before reporting to Fort Bragg. Frankie truly wanted to follow in Carlos' footsteps, which caused more than a little gloating from Ricardo about the ways of fathers and sons. Of course, women of all ages just melted at the sound of Frankie's voice. It was almost scary.

One of the things that bothered me the most was that Carlos didn't seem to mind whether or not our son was screwing around. With the way all of our friends' younger daughters follow Frankie around, it's amazing we haven't received any threatening phone calls about keeping our playboy son away from their oh-so-innocent young ladies. I just hope my sweet little heartbreaker doesn't get hurt on any of his future military assignments. I thought it was bad enough when my husband went to war so many years ago; the thought of my baby being in harm's way threatens to shut me down some days.

Shaking my head to release such negative thoughts, I focused again on the newlyweds dancing their first dance together as husband and wife. The sounds of the old-fashioned music made my mind drift back to the past. The modern music industry sure didn't produce songs like this anymore. I was very proud of Carly and Rafe's choice of music and I nudged Carlos to get his attention.

"Are you listening to the words of this song?" I asked him. "Can't you see how much Rafe loves Carly? They truly were made for each other."

"Hmph!" Carlos grunted. But then I noticed a particular kind of shininess in his eyes.

_When I fall in love it will be forever_

_Or I'll never fall in love_

_In a restless world like this is_

_Love is ended before it's begun_

_And too many moonlight kisses_

_Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun_

_When I give my heart it will be completely_

_Or I'll never give my heart_

_And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too_

_Is when I fall in love with you._

I gently slid my arms around Carlos' still-trim body and said, "Hey there, tough guy, it's going to be all right."

He relaxed into my hold and nodded his head. "I know. I know. You can't keep these things from happening. I mean, look at us. We never should have happened, and yet, we did."

"And I, for one, am glad that some things were just meant to happen," I whispered as I hugged him tighter.

Then the music changed and I almost lost my composure. It was time for Carlos to dance with our daughter and she had chosen the classic Temptations song, "My Girl," too. I guess she was sort of following in my footsteps after all. Glancing across the room, I noticed my father grinning at me before he nodded his approval. When I looked back at Carlos and Carly center stage on the dance floor, my heart fluttered with joy, because both of them were smiling genuinely at each other. All was well in my world again and would be from here on out.

Against all odds, Carlos and I met, mated and married. The same thing was true for our dear friends Tina and Lester. And now, for better or for worse, our children, Carly and Rafe are following our example. No, this probably never should have happened, but it did. And we all are better off for it happening the way it did. As Carlos and his men say all the time, it's all good!

I love my life, I love my kids and I love my husband. No matter what happens next in our lives, it's Carlos and me, forever and ever. Siempre y para siempre. Amen!

El Fin

The End

_Finally!_

_AN: The entire TNH team thanks you, our readers, for staying with this very long epic of Carlos and Stephanie's love story. It was a joy to bring it to you in its entirety. I hope Jude is pleased with our ending. Her daughter, Mari, has written a Thank You note to all our readers in the "chapter" following this one. And please don't forget to follow the Photobucket and Flickr links on our profile page to view all the pictures Jude and we used to "illustrate" both parts of "This Never Happened."_


	65. Chapter 65 Thank You!

**A Note from Jude's daughter, Mari: **

Thank You!

A Worldwide Cyber Hug And Sincere Thanks to ALL of You!

I won't say it's the end, because I don't think "This Never Happened" will ever end, unless FanFicNetwork goes off the worldwide web, and even then, I think many of our avid readers will still have it saved, so you see, I don't think it will end.

I think 20 years from now someone will find TNH and will be reading it and enjoying it with new eyes. And that truly makes me happy.

Where do I begin…(well, pull up your chair and fix yourself a drink while I chat with you for a few minutes)…

My Name is Mari and Jude was my Mom…I loved her more than time could tell. She loved, and I mean _loved_ to write, she had a unique way of expressing herself and I truly believe she had a natural gift. When she wrote, she lived the story. I cannot tell you how many hours, how many long hours we would talk and talk about stories that took up residence in her head, and I say stories because she had written many, however. TNH is/was her first Plum story.

I had never read the Plum Series; I discovered Steph and Ranger through Mom. We had another Fandom before, a soap opera couple; it turned out to be a disappointment for us so she found, quite by accident, a Yahoo site about JE's stories (books), and she spent many hours telling me about them. As time went by, we (Mom) became a Babe! So naturally, I became a Babe. We had no time for Joe so we spent no time with/on him. In Mom's words he was 'persona non grata', so, of course, he was the same for me. I just could not wrap my brain around a woman putting up with Joe's "antics" and still be with him, so, we were Babes through and through.

Oh, I did buy the books, however, they did not even make it home. I ordered the series from Amazon and on the way home I left them in a restaurant, on purpose. Well actually, I left them on top of the trashcan, still in the package, so I hope a Cupcake fan found and enjoyed them. I think it was right about when book 12 came out and Mom and I were truly into our cups, LOL, yep we drank about 5 gallons of hot chocolate (separately) crying over the fact that Ranger will never be appreciated in JE's world, so what's a person to do when you finally realize that Carlos/Ranger will never be fully appreciated in JE's world. Yes, lovely readers, you create your own Carlos and Stephanie world, so hence TNH was born.

What a birth it was…I was there from the conception, no cigarettes were involved, LOL, but the brainstorming was nothing short of cleverness at its finest. Mom had a most interesting brain, a most creative thought process; when she was into it, there was no one better. I thought she was sheer brilliance. I weep for all the readers that will never experience more of her Babe stories, I was truly looking forward to them, however, life had other ideas. But it warms my heart to know that we will always have "This Never Happened" and "This Never Happened II."

Mom read many Babe FFs on the net both from FFNet and from Yahoo sites and she shared most of them with me. I said most of them because I am not an angst reader. I do not read stories where Steph is abused, and I don't particularly like stories where Ranger and the MerryMen are abused unnecessarily either, so she would tidy them up if she thought I would like the story, or if the angst was low level, like Steph going back to Joe, she would warn me in advance.

I fell in love with many, many stories this way, and she would even tell me who some of the writers were and I soon knew some of their names even though I had never been on the sites. Why tell you all this, you might ask? It's not just reminiscing; I just want to share my mindset with you, that's all. Like I said, I fell in love with many stories and I just hated waiting for updates, some that never came. Needless to say, I was not a happy reader. Writing is hard work. I realize this. Life is short and some things are not worth angsting about.

In January 2013, I deleted all the unfinished stories I had saved. If the author ever finishes the story I will recopy and reread the story again, until that time I have moved on.

After Mom passed in 2009, I had this profound sadness that the readers truly would not get a conclusion to TNH. As a reader I felt the pain even more so because I knew that there were many readers that made friends with Mom that would talk with her and some even helped her talk out knots in the story when I was not around (hey, a girl had to go shopping sometimes, LOL).

With my abhorrence for unfinished stories I truly wanted a conclusion to this story. However, there was a big fork in the road. I. Can't. Write. My head was full of where the story was to go, full of all the ideas, but I had no way of putting it on paper that would make sense. Now I know some of you are saying "But you are writing right now." Seriously, this is not writing, it's just me rambling. If you look close enough you will see all the grammatical and punctuation errors. I'm not bragging, trust me, I just know my limitations.

Mom and I talked the story through to conclusion; I knew what she wanted, however, I do not have the talent for details. I do not have the imagination of a writer. I am a good listener and keeper of details; I have a vivid imagination and can add to any story if encouraged, but I cannot put my thoughts on the page and make it palatable for anyone to follow. None of us wants to read a badly written story. I could not do that. Yes, I could have written a several-page Epilogue, but that would not have been honoring "This Never Happened," and I felt the story, if it was allowed to be finished, should be honored…it deserved to be done well, not half way just to call it complete. I would have rather left it where it ended. I never thought the story would be finished, it was never my intent to finish it because "I am not a writer," however, I was hopeful. It's been said a dream is a wish your heart makes. Oh how my heart made that wish.

After Mom passed, I somehow, through her emails, stumbled onto one of her Yahoo Plum sites, I think I actually got the hook up from a Shelly Fredman site that Mom opened. So I joined the site and was able to talk with a lot of Mom's friends on the site and they helped me through a difficult time. It's nice to talk with people that appreciate and respect a loved one, especially people that were strangers. I know it sounds weird, but it's true.

A few of the ladies on the site befriended me and one lady especially reached out to me and truly became like a second Mom to me; she truly talked me off the ledge several times. She became a true friend, she was not nosy or prying, she just cared. Three years later she is still a true friend. You hear so many negative things about the Internet, but I can honestly tell you this: You find what you look for on the net. If you look for bad, I am sure you will find it, however, there are truly wonderful people on the net that are real and genuine. You just need to be fortunate enough to make such a connection in a safe environment and I was one of the lucky ones. I made that connection.

The ladies on this Yahoo Babe site all had in common a love of Ranger and Steph, and their struggle in hoping to seeing JE expand on these characters in her books; we hated them just being fillers, especially Ranger. They/we bonded, no pretense, no ulterior motives, just the love of two characters and I think I can honestly say, lots of lasting friendships were born on this site. Some of these ladies meet up each year and party for a weekend in different cities. I've seen them pray, cry and empathize with other members, me included, that are having a difficult time or lifesaving moment; they share many of the ups and downs of their lives with each other and get support and prayers when they are needed.

Such a friendship happened for me with one lady I met on the site. She is known as 'bgrgrmpy'. I guess there was something that she felt I needed and she emailed me off the site and we started talking to each other. Believe me when I say she was an angel sent from above to listen to me, and she did listen in all things. She was interested in me and my family, no ulterior motive; she wanted to know how I was doing, how I was feeling, what I was thinking, not just about Steph and Ranger. I truly appreciated that and even though I did not know it at the time I truly needed it. Her name is Bonnie, and she truly is an angel sent from above and the reason why "This Never Happened II"…Happened in the end.

Bonnie and I talked a lot and she helped me through sicknesses both with myself and my kids, and eventually she "hooked" me up with two of the best writers and women I have had the privilege of knowing, whom many of you know from the FanFic world and now TNH II.

Their names are Writes4Fun_81 aka Allie and Jago-ji aka Tanna.

In the beginning, Bonnie and I just talked like mother and daughter; she was there for me, helped me when I cried and just listened.

She started forwarding little inspirational things that others would share with her and I looked forward to them. To this day, every day I know that I can open my email and there would be at least one mail from Bonnie; they make me smile every day and I know, today, all is right with the world.

One day Bonnie sent me a card in an email as part of her daily mailings to me. It was titled: **Follow Your Dreams! **_(posted on TNH's Flickr page)_

I have no idea where the picture came from or I would give credit to its creator, all I know is that it spoke to me.

She sent it at a time I was truly turning over something in my head, but thought it was a stupid idea. It was definitely risky.

It truly was a silly idea as I said before, I could not write to save my life, however, I had a head full of information and I had this thought that "if I could only write I could finish "This Never Happened," but I can't write, what to do? I had an idea of how to finish the story despite my handicap, however, I did not know anyone I could approach with such a ridiculous idea. I mean we all have busy lives, right? Who would listen to the idea that I had, and who would take up such a load? I started thinking of the idea, but had so many internal questions I talked myself out of it before I got started. How to approach someone, who to approach, what would they say, would they laugh at me, what about all the time they would need to put in, am I asking too much, am I being unrealistic? See all the negatives I put in my way before I even got started?

The picture Bonnie sent me basically told me to "Follow my dream." To be courageous and try and voice your dream, throw it out there and see what happens. The dream was ridiculous, time consuming, scary, and probably impossible to achieve. However, I took a chance and I told Bonnie my thoughts/dream.

Surprisingly she did not laugh at me, she actually thought it was a good idea and she started telling me about different writers on the site that I could approach. Those writers that "had a writing style similar to Mom." I read some of their work and I felt they were good, however, I was looking for a certain something that I did not feel, I could not put into words what feeling I was looking for, but I thought I would know it when I found it.

One morning I woke up and there were three emails from Bonnie alerting me to a "story." The story was called "Free At Last" by Writes4Fun_81. The story was still a work in progress; I usually don't read WIPs because I don't know how dedicated the writer is and I hate to get into a story only to have it abandoned in the middle and go into archives.

Bonnie told me that this is not going to happen with this story, she told me that the writer was dedicated to finishing the story and she pointed out that the writer was in the Army and knows about Army matters. Well needless to say, I was happy about that. So I started reading the story and I was hooked. It truly is a wonderful story, maybe you can take the time to read it sometime on FanFiction Net.

Well, I followed Writes4Fun and her story for a while and when I got the courage, I approached her about "This Never Happened." It turns out she was a reader of the story, and loved it. She heard what happened to Mom.

Talk about a shock! She was interested in helping me, but wanted to finish her story first.

Well, I'll be darned, that was easy, and I did not even have an "Easy Button." I had a person willing to help me, a person I did not know from Adam, just a writer on the net whose story I liked. She was willing to help _ME_ finish Mom's story and did not laugh me off the net when I asked for her help, imagine that, and they say only bad people are on the net. Like I said, you find what you are looking for. If you are patient and have a friend like Bonnie, the good comes to you.

Eventually "Free At Last" was finished and the writer contacted me about getting started on TNH. Which because of FanFic rules and regulations we decided to name "This Never Happened II." She is a wife and mother with young kids and let me know that she does not write smut, she does not write things her daughter could not read. I respected that as a mother of small children also, however, we had a problem, Houston, seriously the first 40 Chapters of TNH are smut, LOL, and I knew there would be more, so, yes you guessed it in one, we had a problem because I knew there would be more whoopee in the story.

One step forward, one leg stuck. Once again I told Bonnie about my success and my problem. Writes4Fun almost immediately wrote a very long chapter picking up where Mom left off as if the story never stopped! To say I was impressed was an understatement; she did so good on the first try. What she wrote was so long we divided it into four chapters which became Chapters 85, 86, 87 and 88 of "This Never Happened II."

As usual, life interrupted and these chapters sat for a few months just waiting. I had a problem finding another writer… yes, you know what kind. LOL.

Forward in time…one morning another email from Bonnie. _"You really need to read this story, the writer is a good writer and you will love her work, and she writes smut" _… well, with incentives like this I had to go take a look. I mean good smut is hard to find.

The story was called "The Recliner" and the Author was "Jago-ji". I started reading the story and liked what I was reading. What impressed me with both these writers was their attention to details, the story had a little angst, well angsty for me, LOL, but I kept on reading to get a feel for the writer. I was beyond impressed with her. Did I mention that not only did she write smut, but she knew and wrote Spanish? So like before, I contacted her, told her my plight and asked for her help. Jago-ji started reading TNH even though in the middle of writing her own story and was honored to be asked to help finish TNH. Well guess what, like Writes4Fun, she told me she would be willing to help me when she finished with her story, if Writes4Fun would not feel like she was stepping on her toes. She impressed me with her kindness and respectability of Writes4fun already being on the 'project.' Seriously, what are the odds of perfect strangers helping out someone they don't know from Adam.

"The Recliner" finished, life happened, and then we got started. I really wanted writers who were committed as I did not want to start the story only to have the readers waiting for chapters. I thought that would be cruel after all this time. I explained my concerns to the writers and believe it or not they agreed with me, and we thought it would be in our best interest to have a few chapters "in the can" so that we do not keep the readers waiting. We kicked around posting time and frequency and thought it best to "regularly" post weekly, on a specific day, Wednesday (hump day), to give you, the readers, something to look forward to.

Once the schedule was agreed upon we got to work, well they got to work, secured our chapters, sent out an Invitation and "This Never Happened Part II" was launched April 1, 2012 three years to the date it began, and we did not look back.

Imagine my surprise at the response. Over the past three years, I heard from the Yahoo sites that people were constantly asking about the continuation of the story as many did not know that Mom had passed, so I was truly happy when people, readers like you, responded positively to our offering.

Part II of This Never Happened was all about you, the reader; without you we would not have had a reason to continue, it's because of you. The writers and I want to thank each and every one of you…we have readers from all parts of the Earth.

We don't know your names, however, here is a list of where all you readers are from. Every week we love checking on you to see how you are doing. There have been times when some country did not show and we wondered where you were and if you were all right, and if you are still with us. We don't know you personally, but we do see and appreciate each and every one of you. Your reviews range from funny to amazing to beautiful…sometimes even angry at these fictional characters we all love.

So here you are, readers…look at all of you:

Anonymous Proxy

Australia

Austria

Bahamas

Bahrain

Barbados

Belgium

Belize

Bermuda

Bosnia and Herzegovina

Brazil

Bulgaria

Canada

China

Columbia

Costa Rica

Croatia

Cyprus

Czech Revar

Denmark

Dominican Revar

Egypt

Estonia

Finland

France

Germany

Greece

Grenada

Guam

Holy See (Vatican City State)

Hong Kong

Hungary

Iceland

India

Indonesia

Ireland

Isle Of Man

Israel

Italy

Jamaica

Japan

Kenya

Kuwait

Lao Peoples Democratic Revar

Lebanon

Lithuania

Luxembourg

Malaysia

Mexico

Morocco

New Zealand

Netherlands

Norway

Philippines

Poland

Portugal

Puerto Rico

Republic Of Korea

Romania

Russia Federation

Serbia and Montenegro

Singapore

Slovenia

South Africa

Spain

Sweden

Switzerland

Taiwan

Thailand

Trinidad and Tobago

Ukraine

United Arab Emirates

United Kingdom

United States

Vietnam

Over 75 countries, and each month over 12,000 of you visit our site to read and look for updates.

With our whole hearts we appreciate and value each and every one of you. For those of you that left feedback, we thank you very much for telling us whether you liked what we offered or not.

We appreciated and listened to you, we got to know some of you by name that left reviews, and when we did not see you one week we worried if you were all right, and then you posted and we were glad to see you again.

With all my heart, I send my humble and heartfelt thank you.

Without the continued interest in "This Never Happened," TNH II would never have been born.

And of course, the writers Allie and Tanna.

We 4 friends live in 4 different states and 2 different time zones from the West and East Coast.

Rewrites, _OI!_ Yes there were many...the patience and hard work of these writers shines in every word as proven over and over by the reviews from you the reader...

Attention to details, Yes, there might be a few that we missed, but there were not many. Tanna even took the time and went back and re-read, in the middle of writing, the first 84 Chapters and found a few typos and corrected them, is that dedication or what? Going beyond the extra mile to make it right for our readers. The time, sacrifice, that Tanna and Allie took were beyond belief, there is no way to ever thank our two writers. None. But, I still try by saying a simple "Thank You with all my heart."

The story may be at an end now, but it will always be here for you and hopefully, for new readers to enjoy.

So with a heavy heart, I end this part of my bittersweet journey.

It was a long hard battle, but thanks to great writers we can put a joyous HEA on This Never Happened.

Stay kind, stay sweet. I will forever think of friends made from 75 countries, and from time to time I will think of you every time I think of TNH.

With love and sincerity, Mari! (aka Blue Orchid)


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